Tales of Panem
by Prisspanem
Summary: Based on the story of The Arabian Nights. After many betrayals from the women around him,Prince Peeta goes mad and begins to punish all women. So he marries a new bride every night, then has them executed in the morning. However, soon female tributes run out, until Katniss steps forward and volunteers to save her family. Can she find a way to save Peeta too? Cover by Ro Nordmann
1. Tell me a story

**Here is my first go at HG fanfiction. Any feedback is greatly appreciated. The story is all planned out into 8 chapters, so should hopefully update weekly.**

**Based on the story of _1001 Nights, _or _The Arabian Nights._ After many betrayals from the women around him, Prince Peeta goes mad and decides to punish all women. So he marries a new bride every night, and has her executed in the morning. It is Katniss's father's job to find the wives for the Prince. However, soon female tributes run out, until Katniss steps forward and volunteers in order to save her father's life. Can she use her talent for storytelling to change his mind, spare her life, and bring back her childhood love to her?**

**Disclaimer: -** **I own nothing here. Characters based on work of Suzanne collins**

"Katniss, will you tell me a story?"

At Prim's request, Katniss climbed into her younger sister's bed. It had once started out as a way to scare off the toughest of nightmares, and only when their father was away, but it soon become a regular ritual for both of them, helping them to both escape the nightmares that came to them at night. Dreams of their mother's death – of nearly starving years ago. Katniss found that she had a gift for weaving a good yarn for her sister; tales of princes and princesses, of thieves and treasures, genies and lamps. She found herself dreaming up stories in the day, just so that she was ready with something to share with Prim come the night time. Living in the seam, and having only one parent left, meant that Katniss had to adopt the motherly role while their father worked long hours for the palace. Katniss did whatever she could to make his life easier.

As Katniss drew her arm around her sister, she pursed her lips in thought. "Let's see...have I told you the story of the Prince and his future wedding?"

"Katniss – that's not a story. That's really happening. Tell me a real fairy tale."

"I know it's happening... it is the talk of the town after all. Besides, I wasn't going to tell you about the wedding. I was going to tell you about the time I met the Prince." Prim's eyes widened at her admission. Katniss had thought that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to link the evening's story to the very reason their father was yet again absent from the house, but she had been so busy herself that day gathering their dinner, that she had not had a moment to think of a story. And truth be told, Prince Peeta's wedding had been the only other thing on her mind that day.

"OK...tell me. How did you meet him? Was he handsome? Did you speak to him? What happened!?"

"Well...it doesn't start well, but it has the best ending of all stories. It was shortly after mother died. Things were bad for us, as you remember. Father had not yet got the job at the palace, and slowly our money ran out." Katniss began to feel that this could be a very bad idea, after looking at Prim and seeing the glassy eyes reflected back at her. But she knew that Prim would like the ending. It was something Katniss had hung onto all these years after all.

"So, one day, I remember we had not had a proper dinner in nearly a week. You were very hungry, and father was trying his best to hunt for food; but it was winter and there was very little wildlife around in the woods. So I walked to town, trying to sell some of our baby things. But it began to rain."

Katniss could feel herself being transported back in time as she told her sister the story. How the rain felt like icicles as it landed on her skin, how she desperately tried to trade what little she had for some remnants of food, but getting nothing but resigned faces and shut doors. Eventually, she found herself under an apple tree behind the bakery of the palace. She had collapsed in exhaustion, was ready to give everything up and wait for death to claim her. At that point, she had sensed movement a little in front of her; had looked up, and found herself staring in the bluest eyes she had ever seen; bluer than the ocean, bluer than the sky on a warm summer's day. She did not know who he was straightaway; the youngest Prince had not yet made any public appearances. But as she stared at his curly mop of blonde hair, she thought she recognised his lopsided smile from somewhere. Later she would realise it was the same smile as that of the King himself.

She realise that he held out to her a freshly baked loaf of bread, and anger had surged in her at that moment.

"I don't need your charity!" She had practically yelled at him. But the look in his eyes wasn't one of pity, but curiosity. He seemed taken aback by her words, but had not turned away and fled as she thought he would. Instead, he blushed, looked to the ground, and then shyly stammered.

"No – no...it's not...that is,...I was hoping you would try it for me, and let me know what you think. The cook has been t-teaching me to make bread, and this is the first batch I have made completely by myself. I understand if you don't want to try it, but it would be a favour to me if you would."

Katniss had felt dubious at his words, but all the same, her stomach was too empty to dwell on the truth of what he had told her, and besides, he seemed so earnest and shy that she decided to take him at his word.

"Thank you then...I will try your bread."

He silently handed it to her. She tore off a piece, placed it greedily in her mouth, and could not help the moan that escaped her lips. It was the lightest and most delicious bread she had ever tasted.

"Do...do you like it?"

"It's good...it's – it's really good. Thank you." His face lit up at her words, and she could not help the smile that began to twitch on her face as he beamed at her.

"I did not mean to disturb you, b-but I heard you singing, and... I thought it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard." She looked at him then, wondering at first what he was talking about. Then suddenly it dawned on her. Her thoughts had been miles away under the tree – so much in her own world, that she must have been singing to herself. She used to do it a lot as a small child. Being eleven, she clearly had not completely shaken the habit. So she blushed at his compliment, but remained silent, and stared wide mouthed and red faced at her blue eyed acquaintance.

"Would you perhaps consider a trade?" His words brought her out of her thoughts, but she wondered what on earth he would want to trade with her for. He looked well fed and well groomed, and not in the need for anything. So she told him as much –

- "Wait, Katniss, were you rude to _Prince Peeta_?" Prim interrupted, almost in shock.

"Wha – no, I – wait, just...wait. Let me carry on will you Prim? Geez." She always got annoyed when Prim interrupted, but the frustration never lasted for long. It took her a moment to remember where she had left off.

"So, I asked what he wanted to trade. And he said he would give me another loaf of bread to hear one more song from me."

"And you did it? You actually sang?"

"Yes Prim. At the time, it did not hurt to sing as much as it does now." Truthfully, it did hurt, even then. It had hurt ever since they had lost their mother. She used to be the one to sing them goodnight. Their father was a beautiful singer, so much so that the birds would stop to listen, but the day their mother died, so did the music in their house. It was too painful to them all.

But Katniss had agreed to the trade. Beside the desperate need for food, there was something in that boy's eyes that Katniss could not help but respond to. Something she understood. A feeling she herself had had for a long time. It was akin to loneliness...to experiencing feelings no child could be ready for...for seeing things no child should see. So she sang to him; she sang an old valley song her father had taught her years ago. The Prince watched in awe, and when she finished, he did not move for a long time. Finally, he blinked and opened his mouth to speak, his words coming out in a whisper.

"You sing like an angel. I think the birds in the apple tree stopped to hear you." Katniss just blushed and mumbled her thanks. Suddenly, a cold voice was screeching "_Peeta! Get back here this instant and away from that seam trash!" _The boy seemed flustered; he handed her another loaf of bread, thanked her for her time, and began to walk briskly away. After a few steps, she noticed him stop and stoop down in front of him. He came quickly back to her, and held out his hand again. "A pretty flower for a pretty new friend." He had said. As her eyes focused on what he was holding to her, she could not help the small smile that graced her face. He had picked a dandelion. A weed. The boy clearly had little understanding of the value of certain plants over others. He had simply seen a pretty yellow flower, and picked it to give to her. Katniss always treasured it for that reason. As she took it from him, their hands touched briefly, and the Prince's face blushed beet red. He bowed politely to her, said that he hoped to see her again, and stumbled off into the kitchen of the palace where a sternfaced woman was waiting. Katniss recognised her immediately. She was the Queen.

"Wow...so you saw the Queen too?! Was she beautiful?"

"She would have been, if she did not frown so much. And I did not like the way she treated the Prince. I saw him a few days later, with a bruise on his cheek. I am sure it was she that gave it to him. I have always thought it was because of that day, when he chose to talk to a girl from the seam.

"Anyway, on the way home, I realised something about that dandelion. It made me realise it was spring. The first dandelion of spring. Soon, there would be wildlife aplenty in the woods. Father would be able to hunt for us again, and we would be OK. The Prince, in giving me that flower, had given me hope." Katniss looked down at her hands as she spoke her last words softly. "He will be forever in my heart for that."

And he always had been. She had noticed him as the years went by, as his public appearances increased. She knew he would not remember their encounter, but she kept track of him all the same.

And now, it was the night before his wedding to Princess Glimmer. A beautiful and accomplished young woman from a neighbouring district. Their father was somewhere in the palace, making final preparations for it. He would come home tomorrow and tell his daughters all about the ceremony; the beautiful decorations, the Princess's luscious dress; every detail. Katniss was happy for her childhood friend, but had a sinking sense of loss and foreboding that stuck with her. She could not quite fathom why.

Prim's eyes were drooping; clearly the end to the story had worked as Katniss had hoped it would. Snuggling up next to her, Katniss reached for the light switch and kissed Prim on the forehead before settling down to her own dreams. Of a mop of blond hair, cerulean blue eyes, and a yellow flower that she pressed in her favourite book of fairy tales under her bed.

xXx

But all was not happy at the palace. The wedding had arrived; all had gone to plan. Every guest had doted on the well matched couple. Prince Peeta himself had thought he could not be happier. Glimmer had seemed the epitome of everything Peeta had thought his future bride, and a future Queen, would be. At least, up until that point, she had been. Looking back, Peeta would realise he was half blinded by her beauty, half by her seductive guiles, and the rest from the pressures of soon becoming King.

But truths would not be stopped from revealing themselves to the Prince, and the world as he knew it would be hijacked.

It was shortly after the wedding feast. His bride had already retired to the bridal chamber to prepare for their wedding night. Just as Peeta was about to leave his guests to join her, his brother Rye had burst into the hall, with two of the palace guards in tow. At Rye's enquiry of Glimmer's whereabouts, Peeta insisted he explain himself.

And the truth had come out then. Of Rye's own treacherous marriage to Clove. Her infidelity, to a guard at the palace of Snow of the banished District 13. Long standing enemies of Panem. How Rye learnt not only of his own wife's infidelity, but of a plot to murder the future King. To infiltrate the Palace by the choice of a bride for Peeta. One Glimmer of District One.

A woman who secretly frequented the bedchamber of Cato, son of Snow himself. The very same Snow who the Prince's mother had murdered their father in order to run away and marry. There were whispers that this plan had come from her lips too.

Peeta said nothing to his brother. He acknowledged no-one as he strode to the room his bride was waiting for him in. The guests jumped in unison as the bedchamber door swung heavily shut behind Peeta with a loud crack. For several minutes, the only sounds registered in the palace seemed to be the clock tick-tocking on top of the fireplace. Then suddenly, a deep roar rumbled and seeped through the wooden panelling of the same door their Prince had shut minutes before, followed shortly after by a loud scream.

Then nothing. To anyone who was asked afterwards, it had felt like an eternity, but in reality was mere moments after they heard the scream. Peeta opened the door, stepped back into the room, with a face of stone. Where once warm blue eyes held hope, they now held ice. In a voice not one man recognised as coming from the Prince before, he coldly demanded that Glimmer and Clove be executed at sunrise. Rye had tried to reason with Peeta, for to Rye he had always been the forgiving one in the family. The kindest. He almost could not believe he had heard the order that had come from his younger brother's mouth.

Until Peeta set his icy stare on him. Then Rye understood. He understood as all others in that hall understood at that moment.

The young Prince Peeta, the boy under the apple tree, who gave a girl from the seam everlasting hope, was gone.

xXx

Mere days after the execution, Peeta sent for his royal advisor Everdeen. When the man approached the Prince, he was shocked to see how much he had changed. He noticed Peeta shook violently, muttered to himself. When Peeta looked at him, Everdeen could not help but jolt at the eyes staring back at him. His pupils were impossibly dilated, despite the bright midday sun flooding the room. There was only a thin trace of blue surrounding them.

"Everdeen...I want you to find me a bride." The Prince had said. Upon asking for clarification at the shocking request, the Prince explained his reasons. "The surrounding districts all expect me to have a wife. But you and I both know women are all mutts. The worst of Satan's creations. They can never be trusted. They are filth out to ruin us men. So I have come up with a beautiful solution to solve both problems. At sundown, I will marry a virgin bride. She will spend the night in the bridal chamber with me. But at sunrise, you will make preparations for the reaper. At sunrise, she will take her last breath. She will be executed. I will retire every night a married man as my people expect of me... but no woman will again have the chance to plot against her King. No woman will have the upper hand over me again. No more dammit! No more!"

Everdeen tried to digest what he was being told. Attempting to calm the Prince, to dissuade him from this genocide path, he tried to reason with him. Not every woman is evil, he had tried to state. Perhaps if the Prince allowed him to choose a bride carefully, he would pick someone purer of heart for him. But the Prince roared at Everdeen, and cut him off.

"You will do as I tell you! You will go to the districts, you will choose a virgin bride every day, and send her on the train to me here, in the Capitol. Every morning at sunrise, that woman will be put to death, and you send me another. If you fail Everdeen, it will be your head on the block. You have a week to line up the first of my brides. Go!"

Everdeen simply bowed, and retreated from the Prince's chamber immediately. He had hoped that the Prince was simply still in shock over his late wife. The young gentle Prince of Panem would not do this bloodiest of acts, surely? Forcing himself not to think of an alternative, for his daughters needed him not to fail, Everdeen began at the closest district, the district Glimmer originated from. District 1. He lined up all the names of potential brides, had them checked for their purity, and set up a reaping bowl outside the town hall to select names to send to the Capitol every day. One by one, he watched them say their goodbyes to those they loved, not realising the fate they were heading to in the Capitol. He hoped secretly that the Prince would forget his plans, would have a change of heart.

So, it was only when he saw for himself, the wooden boxes returning day after day, the grieving families receiving them, that he realised. Prince Peeta was lost forever. And he had blood on his hands.

xXx

Word had spread across the Districts of the Prince's scheme. Of the girls sent off to the Capitol, only to return in boxes. Memorials had been set up in tribute of their bravery. Soon, they themselves were to be referred to as tributes, as everyone began setting up their memorial the moment they were reaped from the bowl.

Everdeen soon ran out of potential tributes in District 1. So he travelled outwards, to District 2, where he found four more. Then outwards again, to three, four, five. Only a handful between them all. There was an increase in girls visiting the slagheaps, desperately ridding themselves of their purity to keep their names from the reaping bowl. Where once they would be shamed, now there was nothing but understanding. Marriages had spiked in the two weeks that he had been travelling through the districts, until eventually he reached the district he had been dreading. District twelve.

Everdeen had glanced at the banns after arriving at the station, for the town hall was next door. He recognised so many names. The youngest was a twelve year old called Posy; his neighbour Hawthorne's daughter. He did not know whether to feel relieved or apprehensive when he did not see either of his daughter's names in the list of upcoming nuptials.

Returning home, Prim excitedly spoke to him of all the weddings the town had recently seen, and all the babies she hoped to help deliver in the coming months. Delly Cartwright had wed Thom the butcher's son. Gale had married Madge Undersee, the mayors daughter. He knew that no matter what the rest of the town had heard, his youngest daughter's glee showed that she had escaped the rumours, had escaped the horrific reality to the situation. Katniss merely stared at her father's hunched frame as he stared at his untouched dinner at the kitchen table. He knew that Katniss must know. She would be the reason Prim was in the dark, had managed to protect her childlike innocence, and suffered herself for it. He also knew that if he did not send a bride soon, the Prince would settle for his head instead.

When Prim had retired to bed finally, Katniss asked her father if the rumours she had heard were true. He could not lie to his daughter, so he sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Why would you agree to something like that? Surely it can't be true?" So he told her, how he witnessed the coffins return, how the Prince was no longer recognisable as the loving and forgiving Prince that Panem once knew. How there were no more options available in any of the districts.

"So...if you fail to send any more. Wh- what happens then.?" At the question, he gives his eldest eye contact for the first time. He expected to see hatred in her eyes. Instead he saw the same strength he always drew from his daughter. So he was honest with her.

Katniss contemplated in silence. Her father felt there was no other option available to them; she could see his thoughts as clearly as if they were her own. He would say his final goodbyes to them, give them as much as he could, would ask the Hawthornes to take them in. And then he would return to the Capitol, to his fate. Unlike Katniss, he could not see any other option.

But she could.

So the next day, when the reaping bowl stood untouched, and her father stepped up to the podium to speak to the town, to wish them goodbye, her voice cut him off before he began to exhale.

"I volunteer!"

All eyes turned to her. The sea of people parted in front of her, leaving a clear path between her and her father on the stage. Her father, who was staring at her in horror. But she would not let his look deter her.

She cleared her throat, and boldly repeated. "I volunteer as tribute."


	2. Point of no return

**Sorry for slight delay, but here is chapter 2. Thank you so much for all the review; the welcome for this story has reallyoverwhelmed me! **

**And huuuuuuge thank you to my beta eatsnightlockforbreakfast for giving me amazing feedback, as well as the confidence boost I really needed for this chapter!**

**As always, I own nothing. Characters based on the work of Suzanne Collins.**

Katniss looked at the blurred scenery rolling past the train window; at anywhere really, in an attempt to ignore the ridiculous woman in front of her. As if her oncoming fate wasn't punishment enough, she had to endure this highly primped woman's high pitched voice all the way to the Capitol. Her personal escort to the Prince, her father had told her. Effie Trinket, as she introduced herself in far too chipper a way. At the station platform, Katniss had taken in very little of anything that was being explained to her; now, she rather wished in hindsight she had insisted the woman remain behind, or to stay away from her in the very least. Hell, pushing her in front of the train would have been too good for this woman.

But instead, Katniss continued to squint out the window, and the purple haired woman continued her rant.

" - I think that's one of the wonderful things about this opportunity – " Katniss' attention had been sharply drawn back to her companion at her choice of words. _Wonderful?! Opportunity?! _Had she _no _clue where they were headed?

" - it is just for a little while, you get to be a Princess for a day. How many women can boast that?"

"You tell me. How many have been on this train? Lost count already?" Katniss met the woman's wide eyed gaze with her steely silver eyes. She was aware it was the first thing she had spoken to the woman, and could easily have continued her vow of silence, had it not been for the large migraine that was forming thanks to this woman's grating whining. Luckily for her, her response had worked in shocking the woman into silence, no doubt too stunned to know what to say next.

"Yes...well, I suppose I should find your advisor Haymitch. No doubt he's in the bar car."

Katniss inwardly sighed in relief. Finally, she found the opportunity she had been looking for, ever since she had stepped up and volunteered. Thinking about her last goodbyes back home, she looked out of the window and allowed herself to cry.

xXx

"_I volunteer as tribute." She knew she couldn't give her father any opportunity to try to stop what she was about to do, so she mounted the wooden steps to the stage as quickly as she could, despite her trembling legs. Finally, she found herself in front of her father, who was looking at her with both pity and horror in his eyes._

"_Katniss...you – I can't – I won't let you do this. For God's sake, go back and stand with Prim."_

_She knew she would meet his resistance, but she had to make him see why it had to be her, why he couldn't be the one to get on that train alone._

"_Father, you must see. Surely you must. I could take care of Prim alone, of course I could. You taught us both how to survive. But for how long exactly? Once the Prince kills you, will it end? No. There will always be another to replace you. Your gesture will buy us time, but that is all. I'm sorry, but I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for Prim. It will end here. It will end with me, one way or another. I will finish this father. Trust me." As she whispered her words to him, she felt her heart thrumming in her ribcage. She knew what she was doing was the only way, but that didn't stop her feeling the instinct to run back home, hide under her covers, and never come out. She was only eighteen after all._

_Whatever she did feel, it wasn't being conveyed on the outside. All her father could see in her was conviction. After moments of contemplation, he let out a long sigh, rubbed his face, before introducing her to the crowd, as had become the custom for these reapings. A chance for the tribute to say goodbye._

"_District Twelve, I introduce to you, your tribute for the marriage to the Prince – Katniss Everdeen."_

_Katniss wasn't exactly sure what to expect from this. Silent horror, most likely. Tears and groans, possibly. Cheers, definitely not. But whatever she had thought, she definitely wasn't expecting the gesture the crowd bestowed upon her. Every man, woman, and child raised their three fingers in a silent salute. In their district, no one fully understood where it originated, it was an age-old gesture. But everyone understood its translation. It meant respect, and it meant thanks; it meant goodbye to someone you love._

_Katniss had to turn her back on the crowd and rush into the town hall. She could not show tears or emotion; there were far too many cameras reporting back to the Capitol, and she refused to allow Prince Peeta to see any weakness in her. Not for what she was planning._

_Once inside the building, Katniss knew she only had a matter of minutes to say goodbye to her father and Prim before she left on the train. So she anxiously waited, and it was not long before that recognisable braid of golden hair came bursting into the room, with her father just behind._

"_Katniss! What did you do?! Why would you volunteer?!" It seemed both Katniss and her father had misjudged Prim's innocence in the matter; she clearly understood far more than she had previously let on._

"_I'm sorry, but I had to. For you. If there is any way I can stop this, then I have to try. Be brave, and take care of father for me, OK? I need you to do that for me."_

_Katniss was desperately trying to keep a brave face for her sister, but it was becoming increasingly difficult just looking at the tears falling from her sister's blue eyes. _

"_Promise me you'll come back Katniss, please; promise me you'll try."_

"_Of course Prim. Of course I'll try. I have a plan." As she hugged Prim, she directed her gaze over the girl's shoulder towards her father at this, who with one look showed her he could read her thoughts. But Prim once again had been underestimated, for she too looked at Katniss and knew her plan instantly._

"_You...you're planning to kill him, aren't you?" The words were spoken so quietly, she was not sure if her father had heard her sister. But Katniss was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the look Prim was currently giving her._

"_You can't, Katniss! You can't kill him. What about your story? He gave you the dandelion. He gave you hope. He deserves to be helped, he just needs – "_

"_Prim, it's a little late for that. That happened years ago – he was an innocent boy. Peeta is eighteen now, a grown man. Hardly innocent. He is aware of his choices. This is the only option. Can't you see that?" _

"_No! It's not, Katniss. There's always another option!"_

"_Like what?! You think I want to do this?! _There. Is. No. Other. Way_. Give me another idea, I'm all ears. Trust me, if there was any other option, I would jump on it. But there isn't." Katniss had been trying not to think about having to kill the boy with the bread; but now, with Prim's hostility to her plans, she could not ignore the slight fracturing of her heart. So instead, she took the opportunity in the stifling silence to duck her head and allow a single tear to splash onto the wooden slats below her feet._

_It felt like more minutes had passed than could have been possible, before Prim broke the silence again._

"_Why don't you tell him a story?"_

xXx

Katniss awoke with a start to a presence in the room. Her head was pounding, and her neck ached; she soon realised she must have fallen asleep in the same compartment she was in when Effie left her last night. Dragging herself up to face her visitor, she inwardly groaned at the smell of stale vodka that emanated from the man standing over her. The icing on the cake was noticing Effie stood in the doorway.

The powers that be had decided that last night's delightful company clearly wasn't enough for her, she thought miserably to herself.

"Come on Katniss, rise and shine! It's your big, big, big day!" The cheeriness of the purple-haired woman seemed to have no bounds.

A deeper voice broke the peace of the carriage then, and Katniss could finally place a voice to the face of the vile man in front of her.

"Congratulations sweetheart. Looks like all your childhood dreams are about to come true!" He half snorted his words in their sarcasm, before making his way over to another area of the room.

"This is Haymitch; he is one of the palace advisors given to you personally while you stay in the Capitol. Any questions, don't hesitate to ask him."

Katniss quickly glanced disapprovingly at the man now leaning over a pot plant in the corner of the compartment, clearly about to hurl at any minute. She could not help the bitterness that formed in her heart; her last hours on this earth, and she is given _these _two clowns for company? May as well skip straight to the execution now.

Slowly, he began to stand again. Katniss watched as he stumbled his way over to the refreshments table; apparently his blood-alcohol levels had dropped dangerously low in the time it had taken him to walk from the bar car to here.

"So you're my advisor, huh? I'm not exactly sure what it is you're supposed to be advising me on. I already know how to make a gin and tonic. It's gin...and tonic. So, I guess you can be excused." Haymitch simply snorted at her, and began filling a glass with ice.

"Seeing as though you have about as much use here as a rubber chicken, I'd guess that you were probably pretty expendable in the palace too. No doubt sent here to get you out of their hair."

Haymitch stared at her with his dusty blue eyes. At first, she felt she had succeeded in insulting the man; until he barked out a laugh suddenly and turned to Effie.

"I like this one...she's got spunk. Might be able to last a little longer than sunrise eh?" He turned to look at her pointedly before taking a swill of his drink. Damn that bastard.

Katniss couldn't contain her rage any longer. In one swift move, she was on her feet and swatting his drink out of his hand before she had even thought better of it. As it smashed against a painting on the far wall near her window, she maintained eye contact with the man in front of her.

"You think this is a joke?! Because I sure as hell don't see the funny side. How many girls have you laughed at as they came through here, never to see their homes again? Huh!? Show some damned respect and do some semblance of your job. If you're an advisor, give advice. Otherwise, stay the hell away from me and any other girl that steps foot on this train."

Steely grey eyes met cold blue, as Haymitch opened his mouth to respond. Katniss almost found herself leaning in to make sure she heard what he was saying, he spoke in such a low voice. But his stench kept her rooted on the spot.

"You want some advice sweetheart? Fine. Here's a tip; stay alive. Oh...not what you were expecting? Well, every girl that gets on this train thinks it's a one way trip. Most take in the decadence in wonder, enjoy being treated like a princess, with little thought on how to actually _survive _ this thing. No fight in 'em." She waited on him to continue, confused as to the direction the conversation had taken suddenly. "You seem to have fight. Not sure if it's misplaced confidence; I guess we will have to see. At least you haven't resigned yourself to your fate like the rest. I can see it in your eyes. I can see your plan. But it won't work sweetheart."

Katniss simply raised her eyebrow at Haymitch, before replying as casually as she could. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She couldn't afford to let anyone in on her intentions, especially not employees of the palace. It was treason to kill a Prince, after all. And it was no good planning, only for word get out, and her finding she couldn't get close enough to him in the first place.

He simply smiled at her in that self appreciative way. "Of course you don't. Well, let me tell you. You want to know the key to staying alive in all of this? _You get him to _like _you." _She could not help glancing curiously at him. What on earth was he talking about?

"Listen; I have worked for the royal family for years. I have known that boy his whole life. I know more than you can possibly fathom about what goes on in that head of his. He is still in there. This...this isn't him. He just needs something to bring him back. So, if you're thinking of purchasing a weapon when you get to the palace, think again. You don't need to buy a weapon; you need to buy yourself time."

"I think it's a little late for second chances here. The Prince has blood on his hands. Whether it's him or not, there's no coming back from that."

"Appearances can be deceiving sweetheart. If nothing else, remember that. And remember who the real enemy is." And with that, Katniss watched frozen in place as Haymitch swiped a bottle from the counter and left in the direction she could only think was back to the bar car.

xXx

Katniss had barely taken anything else in following her conversation with Haymitch. She could not help but to dwell on the drunkard's words and their meaning. "_Appearances can be deceiving. Remember who the real enemy is." _They echoed repeatedly in her head. So she was surprised to find herself in a clinical yet richly furnished room, which smelled of a mix of bleach and perfume. Several people were buzzing around her in which she could only assume with the sole purpose of preparing her for the wedding.

Shortly afterwards, her hunch was proved right. Katniss was prodded and poked; hairs were ripped painfully from her legs and arms, her eyebrows tweezed; all in all she felt raw and exposed by the whole experience. Without a word to her, the room suddenly emptied as quickly as it had filled; and Katniss found herself gratefully alone once more.

A mocha skinned man in a black suit entered through a door she had not previously noticed. His eyes were a golden hazel, and conveyed a warmth that she could not help but feel instantly at ease in his presence. She noticed on closer inspection that he had flecks of gold drawn around his eyes; as Capitol fashion went, he was the most reserved citizen she had seen thus far.

His smooth voice interrupted her observations. "Hello Katniss, welcome to the palace. My name's Cinna. I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I intend to help you however I can."

"Thanks. Most people just seem to congratulate me."

"Well, that seems a little pointless, does it not? I think it's fairly clear to everyone why you're here. Although, I have not yet known someone to volunteer for this. What brought you to do it, if I might ask?"

Katniss found there was something inherently comforting in this man in front of her, something that naturally put her at ease around him. She found herself wanting to be open to him; to confide where before she had kept her thoughts to herself. Trying still to keep the tears at bay, she swallowed and then softly replied "I did it for my sister."

Cinna smiled warmly at her, and grasped her hand. "Well, I hope to help you in any way I can. Right now, we need to get you ready for the ceremony."

Any feeling of contentment soon expelled from Katniss at Cinna's reasons for being there. "So you're here to make me look pretty" she muttered in disdain.

"No, I'm here to help you make an _impression. _Someone as brave as you, can't be easily overlooked. Especially not by the Prince. We can't have you looking plain and unimportant now can we?"

Katniss felt her lips tug up in a half smile at his words. "I hope not."

xXx

The music kicked in; the groomsmen began their walk down the aisles. Nothing changed. Everything was the same, for every ceremony. White roses adorned the pews, the same Capitol guests came as witnesses. The only difference that had been made in recent week was the absence of his brother Rye. His brother had said he couldn't stand by and watch as he lost himself piece by piece, day by day, and so had retired to district four to stay with some old friends.

Peeta could not say he understood the meaning of the word.

Even the brides were the same, he thought bitterly. Every one of them preened and painted to the ridiculous Capitol style; too much colour, too much make-up, just...too much. And to add to his distain, they all looked at him with the same look. Of fear, of reverence, and a small spark of flirtation that they could somehow change him. Mostly they were weak, sickly creatures to him. Every one of them was a mutt. Created for one purpose; to make hell of all men.

The guard of arms started their well timed procession down the aisle. Followed by more latecomers, sneaking in to the few empty seats available at the back. Of course, come rain or shine, and no matter how many of these weddings the palace threw, Capitol citizens would not fail to attend in the hundreds. Anything to gorge themselves on the palace food, and be seen with the richest clientele. He tried to remind himself that they were his people, but mostly they just made him sick.

The flower girls gracefully entered, throwing red and white rose petals with every step.

Girls. Women. Mothers. He felt surrounded and smothered by them. Everywhere he looked, he could not escape the female sex, no matter how much he tried. His brother and Haymitch had both tried to talk him round, tried to convince him that the actions of his mother and two women in her employment did not reflect the motives of every woman. They had tried again and again, until Peeta had begun to think they too were in on the plot the women had to ruin him. Both remained quiet on the subject after that.

No. He was in a room full of vipers, and every woman had blood on their lips.

The tempo and melody of the music altered. Peeta knew it was the bride's cue to begin her saunter to the front; to him. Mostly, he chose to spend the time it took them to get there glancing out of the window, or fiddling with his pocket watch. Anything to avoid looking at yet another mutt.

It was the hushed murmers that had him breaking his habit. The silent reverence that seemed to have settled in the room, and had him glancing back towards the heavy wooden doors, to where Haymitch was currently leading his bride down the aisle.

His very...plain bride.

Certainly, she was plain by Capitol standards. Her dress was a simple ballgown shape of light gold, with a modest sweetheart neckline that certainly flattered the assets of the girl currently headed towards him. The sleeves capped at the shoulders, revealing smooth olive skin down her arms. In her hands she held a bouquet of golden yellow flowers that Peeta did not at first recognise. He fathomed by their shape, that they belonged to the rose family, but were perhaps of a more naturally wild variety. Dogroses perhaps, or...primrose?

As she continued her well paced walk to the front, he began to pick up smaller details. The dress material was not a simple gold silk as he had first thought; instead, he began to see a faint pattern weaved in golden thread throughout the hemline that reached her hips. As she moved, it seemed to move and change fluidly with her, and dance in the light. It reminded Peeta of a gently burning firelight. The closer she came to him, the higher the threads seemed to dance on her dress, until all at once she was before him, and it seemed she was engulfed in glittering golden flames. It almost took his breath away.

He looked up at her face, and felt anger at what he saw. He wasn't sure how he did not notice it at first, but she had cunningly hidden her face behind a thickly netted veil. Peeta felt his blood boil at the underhand tactics of the woman in front of him. Whatever game she was playing, he would be the victor.

"I'll have no tricks. Remove your veil!"

With a move of cautious confidence, she ducked down to lift her veil away from her face and over her curly raven coloured hair. When she again lifted her head and met his eyes, his breath caught in his throat at the silvery pools staring back at him. Her make-up had been kept simple; it seemed only a flick of mascara and some slight blusher had been used, which only highlighted the bright flecks in her eyes.

Her mouth began moving; why, Peeta could not be bothered at that moment to fathom. Whatever was being muttered by her, seemed not to be addressed to him anyway. Her speaking had given him the fortune – or misfortune – of noticing her lips, which were plump and pink and looked as soft as the rest of her skin. He tried to ignore the desire within him to find out if they were indeed as soft as they looked.

But it was the look in her eyes that he kept returning to. It was nothing like the others. There was no fear, no reverence. She wasn't even looking at him with hope of any kind. No, he knew this look. Any man that had looked into his eyes the day he found out the truth about Glimmer, and therefore the truth about all women, would have seen the same look in his eyes. It was hatred; but more so, it was determination. Why he could now see that look in her eyes, he could not work out. He couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement flow through him as she held his gaze.

" – you may now kiss your bride." Peeta had been so preoccupied staring at the woman in front of him, he had barely paid any attention to the words of the minister. Not that it mattered; he had said the same vows so many times, he could probably do it in his sleep. Nevertheless, he was uncomfortable with how much she had unnerved him in the space of a few minutes. And what irked him more, was that he felt a sense of familiarity emanating from her, that he could not place.

"Have we met before?"

The look in her eyes was briefly replaced by that of shock, before she swiftly composed herself to answer. "I am Katniss Everdeen, daughter of John Everdeen, your right hand man and personal advisor. Many say I take his looks."

Peeta thought for a moment. He ignored the nagging feeling within him, and accepted that that must be the reason she seemed so familiar.

Wanting to get the ceremony over and done with, he leant in to place a brief and cold kiss on her cheek to end the ceremony, as he had done for every other wife. At the last moment, for a reason he could not within himself fathom, Peeta changed his plan, changed his tradition - for her. He grabbed her face with both hands and planted his lips to hers. He heard a faint squeak, and felt her expel a puff of air from her mouth in surprise. At first it seemed she would not respond at all. But then, slowly, she returned the pressure. He could feel her face relax in his palms. As he weaved one of his hands into her hair to draw her closer, he felt the tentative touch of one of her own small hands on his own cheek. Her body moved ever so slightly closer to his. It was only when he grabbed her closer to him by the waist, and he moaned at the contact, that something seemed to awaken in her. Swiftly, she pushed herself away from him, blinked several times in wide-eyed shock, before swiftly slapping him across the left side of his face.

The violence of her slap had Peeta awaken from her dark spell. He could not believe what had just happened, what he had allowed himself to do. He realised just how close to danger he would be next to this vixen, this satanic temptress surrounded by golden flame. This girl on fire. And if he did not watch himself, he would get burnt.

So he looks away from her in disgust, and as he walked away, called after Haymitch.

"Have the guests continue to dinner. The show is over. And someone take this mutt to the bridal suite, and out of my sight."


	3. Bed of roses

**Thank you so much for all the reviews – they all mean a lot. Anyone that is worried about the direction I seem to be taking it in, please remember we are only three chapters in.**

**Much love as always to my brilliant beta **_**eatsnightlockforbreakfast **_**for her brilliant guidance and words of encouragement, especially on this chapter. **

**As always, I own nothing. Characters owned by Suzanne Collins.**

**Enjoy!**

Katniss found herself in yet another unfamiliar room, and yet again not alone. She guessed at its purpose – the bridal suite – by the opulence of the drapes and the plush white carpet beneath her feet. Plainly dressed women milled to and fro gracefully but with efficient purpose and routine, straightening crisp cream satin sheets on the bed, and preparing a large ceramic bowl with water and a concoction of rose petals. _For freshening up_, Katniss could only assume. She could hear the running of taps through an open doorway leading off the bedroom, and guessed a bath was being drawn for her.

Various nightgowns and lingerie were shown to Katniss; she was aware of the choices in front of her enough to select a set of cream silk harem pants and matching long sleeved top, steering away from the skimpier lace choices. A beautifully fair skinned woman with black wavy hair began rubbing a floral smelling cream into her hands and arms, while an unseen helper began to unlace the corset of her dress behind her. It did not take long for her to once again place the smell of the cream; Katniss could sense a theme to all of this.

The stench of roses did not restrict itself to the cream or the ceramic bowl, she soon realised. It overpowered the room; its tendrils followed her wherever she stood, clawing at her, choking her. A small caramel skinned girl, with a smile like Prim's, scattered red rose petals in the air, letting them fall in a wistful dance to the ground.

The moment she witnessed one land on the contrasting stark white carpet, a spell had been broken. How she did not notice it before she could not fathom. The petals were everywhere.

Katniss had never liked roses; she had never seen the same beauty in them that everyone else saw. And after her mother's death, they were the bouquet of choice for the funeral. Katniss had even been handed one to throw into the grave to say her final goodbyes. She could therefore not help to associate them with death and despair.

And here, it was the same.

Red petals. Blood red, creating pools and rivers across the room. Katniss tried to stop the thought invading her mind, but she could not help the curiosity that bubbled to the surface. She wondered if she was witnessing the same image all the other wives had seen on their last night on this earth. It was at that thought, that the whole room suddenly smelt like death, like blood, to her. And that girl...she had rubbed it on her skin too; it was invading her pores.

She could feel the bile rise in her throat.

Suddenly, she felt desperate to be alone again. The company was stifling. Could nobody trust her to dress herself for goodness sake? She'd only been doing it for eighteen years! All the women, all the incessant pampering, was beginning to drive her to insanity, and none of it even came close to distracting her from what had been, and what was yet to come. It was not until the young girl pointed it out, that she realised she was trembling.

_She should never have slapped him_, she thought to herself bitterly.

No matter how good it felt.

She had also relished in the fact that her slap had lent another emotion to Peeta's eyes; perhaps hurt wasn't exactly an ideal emotion to aim for, but anything was better than the cold hard stare he had been giving her for much of the ceremony. And with it, that flicker of something Katniss dare not name, that made her feel something she did not recognise in herself before now. And that kiss only made it worse.

That kiss.

Surprising in its sensitive softness, despite the hard grip with which he held her face...

Katniss did not at first notice the movement within the room, until she realised it felt slightly easier to breathe again. While her thoughts had wondered to Peeta's kiss, the young girl had somehow rid the room of everyone but her, finished dressing her, and had sat Katniss down on the bed.

The girl did not speak at first; instead she reached for a very small tub of violet cream from her overalls and began unfastening the lid. At the look Katniss gave her, she simply explained "it's nightlock cream. My mother prepares a lot of natural remedies, and this is good for relaxing the muscles and easing tension."

As she began to rub it into Katniss' shoulders, she asked "Isn't nightlock a poison?"

"Oh, only if ingested in its natural form. But when boiled down, it is useful for so many things. It's a very good antiseptic cream for cuts too."

Rue continued to rub small circles on Katniss' back. She began to feel instantly soothed and more relaxed, although she could not tell whether it was the nightlock cream, or the little girl sitting with her. There was no doubt this girl had healing hands, and the longer she stayed with Katniss, the less alone Katniss felt. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine being back at home, with Prim sitting next to her on the bed, ready to be told a story.

When she felt the trembling in Katniss abate, Rue once again broke the silence in the room. "It's OK Katniss, it will be Ok. He won't harm you."

Katniss did not know how to respond to the girl's absurd statement. But she did take comfort in knowing someone was trying to comfort her, and she still could not shake how much this girl's kind eyes reminded her of her sister. So she decided to make an effort in speaking to the girl. "What's your name?"

"My name's Rue. I was born in June, so my mother named me after the native flowers that blossomed in the northern fields at the time."

"That's a beautiful name. My father liked to name us after flowers too." Katniss began to remember her father first explaining the meaning behind her name, how he'd named her after the life-giving potato-like plants they would fish from their lake in the woods every summer. She could not finish her thought, would not let herself wonder if she would see her favourite place again.

Rue must have seen the slightly pained expression on her face, so tried to calm what she believed to be Katniss' fears at that moment. "He honestly won't harm you. He won't touch you at all. He's never even visited the bridal suite. We prepare the brides, but then they go to bed. The next day, they are gone, and we are left to put the room back to the way it was. So don't worry – you won't have to do anything you don't want to do tonight."

It took a few moments before it dawned on her as to Rue's meaning, at which point her face flushed and her eyes went wide. She had always thought Prim to be the naive one, and yet here she was, a bride on her wedding night, and it had not even occurred to her that she may have been expected to perform some kind of womanly duties with Peeta. Not that she would have let it get that far.

No,_ her_ biggest problem had seemed to be trying to source a weapon while she was clearly stuck in this room. The rather large lock on the outside of the door, and the two burly guards on the other side were contest to that. But here, she realised there was an even bigger issue. With the slight relief that first came with Rue's words, was the bitter truth; to kill Peeta, she would need him to actually be in her presence. A sinking feeling settled in her gut as she felt her fate step closer to the door.

But it wasn't death that swung the heavy door harshly back on its hinges. Both girls stared in shock at the blond haired blue eyed figure in front of them. Rue briefly glanced at Katniss, with a look of both pity and confusion – and possibly even curiosity – at her. The glance was only fleeting, for the girl gave her hand one last squeeze, then quickly looked to the floor and bowed to the Prince as she exited the room.

As a hunter, Katniss was used to feeling adrenaline coarse through her veins. It certainly wasn't out of place here, when Peeta's piercing gaze spoke to her of an intention to hunt and devour. There was no doubt Katniss could feel fear and uncertainty within herself; she had yet to think of how to win this game to the death in the arena her husband had just entered. A game she knew he too was well aware of, by the look he was still giving her.

A gaze that did not take away from his handsome features. _He certainly has changed from the boy she spoke with all those years ago._

"Come to finish me off, sweetheart?" He looked at her with a hint of humour in his azure blue eyes, one golden eyebrow arched as if in challenge.

Katniss simply held his gaze, all the while desperately trying not to convey the slight unease he stirred in her. After a few moments, he huffed to himself, and slowly made his way over to a mahogany cabinet in the corner of the room. He slid open the lid, and revealed a selection of decanters with various jewelled coloured drinks within them. Peeta selected a honey coloured concoction, and slowly poured himself a glass, all the while keeping Katniss in his field of vision. She could not help but eye the glass bottles. If she were able to pick one up, and use it to make violent contact with his head...?

As if in answer to her thoughts, Peeta then slid the lid closed and locked it with a golden key he took from his shirt pocket.

So much for that plan.

She watched as he slowly gulped the drink down in one go, continuously staring at her the whole time. She could feel his eyes slowly rake down her body, before moving back up again to her face. A knowing smirk reached his lips, and Katniss squirmed slightly, choosing to attribute the feeling she felt at that moment to that of anger. She refused to give it any other label.

Peeta walked closer and leant against the bedpost. He stared at Katniss for so long, she began to feel she would spontaneously combust under his heated gaze. "You're not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?"

Whatever she had expected him to say, it was not that. Feeling fury slowly boil in her veins, she chose to ignore the voice in her head that agreed with him, and instead looked him up and down slowly from head to foot, in the same raking gaze he had given her just moments before. His face had changed a lot since the time they had met as children; his hair no longer fell around his face in soft curls, but instead was swept back neatly on top of his head. His jaw was more defined, with a day's growth of golden stubble; she notice a fairly fresh cut ran diagonally down one side of his face, the side she had slapped, she noted to herself. His eyelashes were even longer (if that were possible). She noticed how his blue eyes were still as striking, and yet held more suffering within them. They were weighed down with dark shadows that hinted at many nights of restlessness. Why he did not sleep well, she would not try to guess. She hoped it was guilt keeping the Sandman from his door.

Katniss noticed the way his buttercream cotton shirt gripped his broad shoulders in a way that hinted at the expanse of muscle beneath. With his sleeves rolled up, she could catch a glimpse at the feathery golden hair caressing his forearms. Arms she remembered holding out bread to her in the rain. Arms she had always wondered how they would feel wrapped around her. Moving further down, she could not help but pause at the hint of a bulge below his waist. Looking back up to meet his eyes, she fought the blush that began to creep into her cheeks.

"You could certainly look better."

Peeta's eyes widened in surprise at her retort, but within a few moments he was laughing hard at the statement. As the laughter faded, the humour still seemed to remain in his eyes, warming them to a cornflower blue. "You're different to the rest, you know. There's something... something about you." He gave her a small smirk as he continued, "Your choice of night attire for a start."

Katniss looked away in frustration. "Well, I'm _sorry _if my choice doesn't please you, but frankly if I am to be facing death in the morning, I'd like to at least get a comfortable night's sleep to prepare for it."

Peeta shook his head slightly. "No, I mean. The others – they were so...overdone. I mean, I never wanted to come in here, but I would find out how they behaved, the things they chose to wear, how they chose to spend their evening. All were so hopeful they could change me, change my mind. Seduce me with their body. Dress in barely anything. Too little clothing, too much perfume and make-up. Just...overdone. Tried to make me see they were different. That they were worthy of the throne. Wanted the power of it all. But they were all the same. They just didn't see it."

Katniss didn't think she could feel more sickened by this Peeta in front of her until that moment. "How could you _say _that like this is their fault, like _any _ of this was a choice for them?! These women gave their _lives. _If they wanted to try to fight for it, you should have given them at least that. You should have had the decency to step into this chamber for them!" Katniss knew she should probably calm down, that shouting at him was only making him more suspicious and wary of her, not less so, and she was going to need the element of surprise. It was the only thing left in her power. Yet still, she could not help but stand up for the injustice of it all.

How could anyone be so..._heartless?_

Peeta's raised voice spoke of his growing rage. "Oh, and you think me spending the night with them would have been a lesser evil?! I did them a _favour! _They knew their fate. They had one night of peace before...before..." Peeta looked down and away from her and placed his head in his hands. _So, he can't even bring himself to say it, _she thought rancorously.

The air was suddenly stifling again, but this time not from the roses. Katniss did not know what to say next, or how to get the upper hand. A soft, almost dejected voice spoke after a while, breaking her thoughts. "Why are you here?"

Katniss wasn't sure she knew what he was asking. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...why are _you _here? Don't think I didn't recognise you instantly as Everdeen's daughter. You have the same eyes. I didn't think Everdeen was capable of sacrificing his own flesh and blood. You must be an especially vile mutt for him to do that." If looks could pierce through flesh like an arrow, Katniss would be in no need for a weapon. As it was, she gave him her signature scowl, one her father and sister would often tease her for, before she replied.

"Actually, I volunteered to come here."

Peeta gave her a curious look, and a flicker of hope seemed to briefly hold within his face. "Why would you do that?"

"Because, if I hadn't, you would have done the same to him that you will do to me, wouldn't you?"

Whatever Peeta had hoped her response would be, he seemed almost disappointed at her words. He pushed himself away from the bedpost, and began to slowly pace up and down in front of her, running one of his palms through his hair and across the back of his neck.

The unspoken question hung heavily between them. _Why was he_ _here with her? _Katniss uttered it so softly, she wasn't sure Peeta had heard her. It was only his slow intake of breath, followed by a shift in the mattress beside her, that let her know that he had.

"I don't know. I seem to be doing a lot of unpredictable things around you. When I saw your eyes... I just... well, it made me think of...something...and then I thought...well, I don't know what I thought. It doesn't matter anyway." He takes a quick glance at her before moving towards a trolley that had been left next to the double doors of the room. "Have you eaten yet?"

The sudden caring tone of his voice had Katniss struggling to find words. How had this evening taken such an unprecedented turn? It was now two in the morning; she had barely three hours left to find a way to kill him and get this whole nightmare over with.

Instead, here she was being lulled into a feeling of companionship, albeit a strange one. Parts of her conversation with him had infuriated her, but there were parts that she could tolerate. Perhaps almost enjoyed.

And here he was, caring for her again, looking out for her, making sure she ate; reminding her of that boy who handed her bread and saved her life once upon a time. Despite knowing she should not let this attachment get any further, she found herself nodding in ascent for him to serve her food. He began lifting sparkling copper lids off various pots, and ladling food into a bowl for her.

He brought it over and placed it gently into her hands. "It's lamb stew. One of the best meals the chef makes. If you don't like it, I can send for anything else to be made. You just have to say."

The smell that greeted her was overwhelming. It made her aware of just how hungry she actually was. Lifting a heaped spoon of lamb, rice, and what looked to be plums to her mouth, she let the concoction touch her tongue and was instantly greeted with an explosion of tropical spices and flavours. The chef clearly had a far superior palette to anyone Katniss had met before. As she let out a moan of approval, Peeta caught her eye and gave her a shy smile that warmed her stomach more than the stew had.

Noticing the cut had begun to look angry on his face, she found herself asking "can I do something for you?" Her question stops him in his tracks, and he leers at her in a way that makes her avert her eyes.

"I'm not here because I want..._that. _I don't want your body, or that of any mutt woman."

Katniss simply blushed, and placed her bowl on the nearby table just so she did not have to look at him. "That's not what I meant. You have a cut...on your cheek. I have something I think can help."Katniss turned away from him, and as her hand surrounded the nightlock cream on the bedside table and began to lift it up, Katniss felt the bed violently shift. Suddenly, she found herself flat on her back on the mattress, her hands pinned above her head, and her entire body pinned by Peeta's. His quick breaths tickled her neck. Much of his upper weight was leaning on her wrists to keep them in place, and she knew she would likely have bruises in the morning. Not that it would matter.

His intense stare was the most unnerving part of the whole situation. She was confused about the look in his eyes, and in her panic tried to struggle free, but soon realised he had the upper hand on her with his size and strength.

"What is that in your hand?! Some kind of poison?! A weapon?! I knew I couldn't trust you, you filthy mutt!" Katniss simply stared wide-eyed at the wild man trembling violently above her, pinning her in place. "Open your hands, dammit!"

Without losing eye contact, Katniss slowly uncurled the fingers that surrounded the small pot of cream. The tension surrounding them began to dissipate slightly as he noticed the item she had revealed, and his body began to relax its hold on her. She watched as his eyes shrunk from heavily saturated pupils that left his eyes near black, to a slight ring of blue. After several moments of silence passed, one of Peeta's hands slowly traced a path up from her wrist to her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers as he covered the pot. It was an intimate gesture that made them both realise at the same moment of the very intimate position they found themselves in. His whole body was flush with hers as he pinned her, and due to her raised arms, her pyjama top had risen several inches to reveal her olive skinned midriff. He was mere inches from her face; eyes darted from lips to eyes lips rapidly. They were both breathing heavily; the quick rise and fall of Katniss's chest caught Peeta's attention, and his eyes flicked downwards before he could help himself. As he looked back into her eyes, she noticed his eyes had darkened, and were now the blue of a midnight summer sky.

In a puff of air that reached Peeta's lips, she softly whispered "it's a healing cream. For the cut I gave you." He leaned back to release her arms, so she could remove the lid of the cream. Dipping her index finger into the purple concoction, she slowly began to apply it to his face; carefully, tenderly almost. She knew it was wrong to show any nurturing to the man who was to send her to the hanging tree, but she could not help herself as she stared up at the lost blond man above her.

The look he gave her transformed then; from firstly awe, to a childlike sense of wonder, then a pained expression, before he jumped off her and scooted quickly to the end of the bed. She pulled herself up to rest on her elbows as she watched him, like she would cautiously watch a wounded animal from afar in her woods back home. She watched as he laced his fingers into his hair and gripped until she could see the whites of his knuckles. And then in a croaked voice, he said "I should go."

At his words, her blood ran cold. If there was one thing his forcefulness on her had done, it was make her see she had little hope of following though with her plan tonight. He was clearly the stronger and possibly even quicker one in his reflexes. She would not be able to use strength against him. She had no weapons to hand. No way of escape. Sand had begun to run through her life's hourglass the minute she stepped on that train; if she could not find a way to slow it from falling, this would be the endgame for her the moment he left through those doors.

Echoes of an unexpected voice ran through her head. Words from a drunk on a train; a journey that seemed a lifetime ago now. _Buy time. Stay alive. _

He had almost reached up to the handle when she called for him. "Wait!"

Peeta looked over his shoulder with a slight question in his blue orbs. But he remained still, waiting for her to continue. Katniss searched desperately inside her, reaching for an idea that was hiding; a memory just out of her reach. Looking once again at his tired eyes, something clicked in her mind.

Prim. Prim had known all along.

"Would you stay with me...until sunrise? Just until I fall asleep." The request was a bold one, but she was all out of options. How she played this could be the difference between winning or losing their game.

"What, is that your final request?" Still, there was a look of puzzlement in his eyes, like he was trying to figure her out.

"Something like that. And I think it's the least you can do to grant me it, don't you think?" God, she hoped this worked.

Turning around to face her fully, he seemed to be mulling her request over. His response was simply to wonder why she would want him there. "Because I can tell you don't sleep well. You would not be here with me otherwise. And...maybe I don't sleep well either. Please...stay." Her voice was soft and timid then, too afraid he would reject her, slightly pained that what she was telling him was the truth. Even if death were not to rise with the Sun, she would choose him as company over being alone.

A soft sigh escaped Peeta's lips, before he slowly walked back to bed. She scooted over to give him room to lie down over the sheets, and they both lay parallel to each other then, heads looking towards the ceiling, palms down on the bed. Her little finger lay so close to his, that she could feel the heat radiating from it.

_So...she had kept him here. Now, to buy time. _

Coughing softly to clear her throat, she began to speak. "My sister has nightmares sometimes. We've both had them ever since our mother died." Katniss peeked at the Prince out of the corner of her eye. Seeing that she seemed to have his attention, she continued. "Usually, when I have mine, they're... well, they're too vivid for me to go back to sleep. Sometimes, I fear them so much, I avoid sleep as much as possible. But Prim...she was a lot younger when we lost our mother, so hers aren't always as frightening. Plus, I have a sure fire way of helping her sleep." Katniss let her last statement hang in the air between them for far too long it seemed. She had hoped he would take the bait, hoped that Prim had been right in her suspicions that he must suffer from nightmares too. Just as she was about to give up hope and try to think of another move, she heard the whispered question fall from his lips. "What...what do you do?"

Her mouth twitched upwards at this. "Well, I tell her stories. Tales of great adventures, of legends, vagabonds, revenge, romance, drama. Somehow, it keeps her nightmares at bay."

More silence. Surely he could feel the thudding of her heart through the mattress. She was on the precipice of her fate; a step away from ensnaring her prey. One hand hovering over her Queen; one move away on the chessboard from trapping his King.

He turned his head.

Opened his mouth to speak.

And as he uttered his next words, she felt her hand sliding the Queen into position.

"Will you tell me a story?"


	4. Weapons and restraints

**A little later than my usual Monday updates, but I've treated you to a much longer chapter to make up for it.**

**Once again, lots of kudos to my fabulous beta **_**eatsnightlockforbreakfast, **_**for her excellent advice and encouragement when I thought this was for the scrapheap. Find her on tumblr. You can follow me on there as well, where I sometimes put snippets of future chapters before I publish.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Suzanne Collins, not me!**

_This wasn't going to work._

"...the young fisherman went to the lake again, hoping his luck would change..."

_Yup. There was no way in hell this was going to work._

"...he only ever cast his net 4 times in any one day. It was a long standing tradition of the village, said to appease the Gods."

_She had been laying there for two hours straight, stringing together story after story. The 40 Thieves, The Tale of the Magic Carpet, Sinbad's Adventures Across the Seven Seas..._

"The first time he cast his net, he felt his net was heavy, and became excited at the prospect of a heavy catch..."

_Here she was, telling the story of 'The Fisherman and the Jeni', one of her favourites, and she was _bored.

"..."but on pulling it in, the young fisherman was crestfallen to discover it was just the remains of a deer carcass."

_Her voice hurt. Her brain hurt._

"But he did not give up. He tried again..."

'_Buy time' Haymitch had said. Buy time._

"Upon his second net casting..."

_...buy time for _what, _exactly? What was she supposed to do with this _time?

"He once again felt a heavy resistance. But when he pulled it in..."

_She should have stuck to her original plan. She was so angry at herself for listening to Haymitch. And Prim. _

"...all he discovered was an old cart wheel tangled in his net. And now he had to fix the net before he could use it a third time."

_Now, here she was, telling every story she could think of, with no clue as to what her next move should be._

"But he did, and he decided to throw it wider and farther than before..."

_She can't just keep telling him stories forever. She was pretty sure even Prim would lose interest in listening after a few hours._

"He began to feel desperate. He knew his rugged looks and charms would get him nowhere if he had nothing to trade in the market. But on his third try, all he brought in was an old brown leather hunting boot. He threw it back in disgust."

_This._

"He cast his net for the last time..."

_Was._

" – and instead, he fished out an old copper pot."

_Stupid._

" - he sounds like Finnick. Can you refer to him as Finnick from now on?" Peeta asked.

"Who? The fisherman?" He had completely derailed Katniss' train of thought, but she was grateful that his question at least proved he was still following her chamberpot of a story.

"Yes. Finnick's in charge of the horses in the palace stables. His father used to own a successful oyster farm in four, until the oysters ran out. Too high demand, probably from all the parties mother used to throw at the palace. Anyway, not long after, his father retired, so Finnick followed his wife Annie here to work in the palace. Call the fisherman Finnick." Normally, a demand to change a detail of her story from Prim would have her riled up. But Katniss was so far beyond caring at this point anyway, and she simply reminded herself of why she was telling this story, and who her audience was, so she acquiesced to his request and continued.

"OK. So...Sorry - where was I?"

"He had just fished out the copper pot from the lake..."

"Ah...yes of course. So, the fisher – _Finnick – _prized open the lid, hoping to find some form of treasure inside. Instead, it seemed empty. Just as he was beginning to work out the value of the pot, a billowing cloud of smoke rose up far into the sky. Finnick watched in awe as the figure of a giant formed, larger than any giant he had read about in stories. Now, this giant called himself Jeni, and had been in the pot for so long, he did not know what year it was. When he was first cast into the pot by an evil Magi, he had intended to grant his rescuer all the wishes he possessed. But as time moved on, and no one came to his aid, this reward fell down to three wishes. And then one. As time passed, so did the Jeni's displeasure and impatience. And all too soon, the reward for releasing the Jeni was a quick and painless death."

Katniss happened to glance out the window before continuing. The distant glow of navy blue on the horizon allowed her to make out the faint shapes of trees miles away in other districts, and she knew it was not long until the Sun would bring forth the day. Even if she kept this story going, embellishing details, there was no way she could keep it going for more than an hour. Then the Prince would stick to his original plan, and have her executed. She had given him no reason to do otherwise.

She must have been silent for a few moments longer than intended, for Peeta prompted her to continue. "Then what happened?"

Katniss knew it would be a powerful mistake. Even as she felt the rage bubble up her throat in her response, she had no regret in the choice she was about to make, could not bring herself to care about the consequences of what she was about to say to the Prince.

"You know what? I'm done. If you look outside, you can see it's nearly sunrise. I'm tired, I haven't slept in nearly a day, I have been prodded and polished and preened, I ache all over and I just want to sleep. So kill me, or leave me be, but that's it. I'm done."

As Katniss had been wildly gesticulating in her rant, the Prince had been watching her quietly, with slightly wider eyes. But after a few moments, she could almost see the rage fly across his glassy pupils, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in sharply to respond.

"You _will _finish the story. Tell me what happens to Finnick."

Katniss simply held the Prince's icy stare. She was too exhausted and riled to consider the consequences.

"No."

"Finish the story, or I'll – "

"-You'll _what? _Execute me? Forgive me, your highness, but I think that hand has already been laid. You want to do that, fine. It was my final fate anyway. But if you want to hear the rest, I'll not tell it without a few hours sleep. Because I. Am. Not. Continuing. Now."

Stalemate. Cold steel eyes met icy blue. Both seemed to be sizing the other out, fighting for the higher ground. Katniss fully expected to face her fate, was too angry and tired to care. But the Prince surprised her.

He accepted her terms.

"Fine! Have sleep if you must. I have duties to attend to." And he got up swiftly, throwing his muscular legs off the bed as he lifted himself to a sitting position. Walking determinedly towards the door, she could only watch with her mouth agape as he reached for the gold doorknob.

Twisting the handle roughly, he turned his head to steer his blue eyes toward her once more. "But tonight...you WILL finish it!" And with that, he stormed through the open doorway and slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him.

Katniss lay stunned for several moments. Had that just happened? Had she _really _just avoided an execution?

Too shocked and exhausted to think, she let her heavy head lay back against the satin pillows, and as the first warm rays of dawn reached into the room, she drifted into sleep.

xXx

_She was being dragged to the executioner's block. She tried her best to resist, but her feet could not make any purchase on the cobbled floor. Women clawed at her the closer she got to the stage, the closer she was to her death. The executioner stood next to a blood stained block. She could smell the iron in the air from the blood of the last victim. _

_It was then that she realised the hands that clawed at her belonged to headless bodies, of the women who had gone before her to the butcher's block. _

_As she was dragged to the centre of the stage, she tried to avoid the soulless eyes watching her as they scattered around her. Eyes that sat within skulls no longer attached to the necks of their owners – _

Katniss was startled from her sleep by a booming knock, followed by Haymitch marching unannounced into the room. Katniss followed her instinct to wrap herself in the satin sheets, even though her choice of sleep attire had been more than enough to cover her modesty. It was only then that she noticed she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her heart was thumping erratically in her chest. The strength of the sunlight filling the room told her it was probably midday.

She registered two things in her sleep induced haze. Somehow, she had managed to sleep a little over seven hours. And she was still alive.

With barely a glance in her direction, Haymitch reached for a small gold key from his waistcoat as he walked to the mahogany liquor cabinet and helped himself to a tumbler of green liquid.

Did everyone have keys to the liquor cabinet but her?

"Nice to see you're still here, sweetheart" he said in a dry tone. "I wasn't sure you were capable of listening to advice. I'd give you an 11 for effort at least." Katniss could not bring herself to reply, so she simply scowled at him while she watched the sickly looking liquid as it passed his upturned lips. "Tell me, how did you manage it exactly?"

"Just why do you want to know, Haymitch? Are the Capitolites keen to hear all the sordid details? Got the sweepstakes up and running again have you? Forgive me if I don't wish to pander to some bet you've got going on me, but this is my life here. The stakes are too high for me." Gambling had always been a popular pastime, particularly for those living in the Capitol, where money was in surplus and easily spent on frivolous things. Katniss had never understood why others might find gambling to be such an exciting sport. In her district, particularly while they struggled to survive after her mother died, she could not see how anyone would risk everything they had on a throw of a dice that could give them all or nothing when it stopped its roll. Why people would put their weekly wage on the outcome of a game, she would never understand. It was all so frivolous and ridiculous to a girl that dealt in absolutes rather than decks of cards.

Her disapproval of the vice soon turned into abhorrence when she began to hear the rumours circulating across town. On each and every tribute that left for the Capitol. The bets had begun simple enough; the colour of the gown, the length of time before the first royal child, how long before the Prince and his new bride would officially take the throne. But all too soon, these bets were deemed unsuitable for the game being played out in the palace. The house was always winning.

So the categories changed. People began using the horror unfolding before their eyes for their benefit, for their _entertainment. _Watching innocent girls sent to slaughter, and betting on how long they could last, whether they were silent or screamed in their last moments, their choice of death; what their final words would be. Katniss did not know how they could find out these details; her father had told her that no one but the executioner and the victims were permitted within the executioners' halls, but somehow word of mouth made it outside those walls anyway.

Eventually though, even those stakes became too dull for the Capitol citizens. It disgusted her how easily bored they became.

She watched as Haymitch placed the now empty glass tumbler back on the table, before slowly walking towards her. He still held an air of cocky superiority that she was finding increasingly frustrating to be around.

"If you must know, sweetheart, the bets have begun again. But there's only one thing being bet on this time around. You." If he saw her roll her eyes in disgust, Haymitch chose to ignore it. "People are betting on your survival in all of this. Not just for another night, but to the endgame itself. They think you can _both survive. _You've sparked hope in every district; hope that Panem's favourite Prince with the once golden tongue can be brought back to them. And the royal advisors have been concerned about the stability of the Capitol against a potential uprising from District 13. You could be the symbol they need to end the restlessness, end the danger. You started something the moment you volunteered. The question is, how are you going to finish it?"

The scowl on Katniss' face had slowly turned into a look of utter confusion as she listened to his words. How could this be possible? How could so many be ready to hope in one night? No, he must be joking. Trying to make her look a fool. He gave her advice to buy time, and here he was wasting hers.

"Listen old man, I don't know what you've been drinking, but I don't see how anyone could hold out any hope in this situation. Peeta as everyone once knew him a long time ago, he is gone, and I need to figure out a way to _buy time _so I can think of my next plan of attack. So if you're here to chit chat, I'm afraid I just haven't got the time right now. Unless you've actually done something useful, like brought me a weapon or something I can actually work with, you might as well leave so I can sort this out myself."

Any hope she had that Haymitch was actually listening to her words when he began to walk towards the doors, were squashed when he took a seat in the red padded armchair a few feet away from them. She glared at him as he slowly crossed one of his brown linen trouser clad legs over the other, before joining the fingertips of his hands together almost in prayer. He peered at her over them, with his head slightly bowed in thought, and his unkempt chin length ash blonde hair began to fall into his eyes as he continued to hold her gaze.

"You don't want to tell me how you managed to survive the day, fine. For the record though, I think it was genius." She looked back at him to see a genuinely wide smile on her face. She tried to bite back any feeling of flattery at his reaction, instead focusing on how he could possibly know what he was talking about.

"What was?"

"The storytelling. Keeping him in suspense. Making him wait. A brilliant move. Oh, and weaving in people he knows into it? Not sure how you managed that one, but you've certainly got his attention sweetheart."

"I didn't mean to do all that. It just happened. He was the one who suggested the fisherman be called Finnick."

"Yes, but you did it. If it was fluke, then we need to plan carefully for how you will carry on the story tonight. Perhaps if you weave in a few more people – "

Katniss cut him off with a frustrated growl. " – argh! It is pointless, is it not? He has become a monster, he's changed. People just don't change back; even if I survive this, he's no longer who he was. Why does no one seem to be able to see that?"

"Look, just because you're ready to give up on him, doesn't mean the rest of us are. The Peeta I knew would not be so easy to write off anyone. You must have seen what he once was, how eloquent. How the people loved him. With one word he could bring a nation to fight on their feet, or bring them to their knees. That innocent blonde haired Prince dreaming for the best for his citizens is still in there, Katniss. I think you have the key to reach him again, and bring him back to Panem."

She could see a tender look in his eyes that she had not noticed before. Her frustration at Haymitch slowly melted as she decided to listen to him reverently.

"I'm not sure exactly when things started to change, but things have been off with Peeta for about a year now. Around the time he first began to court Glimmer. I am almost certain she was involved with it, and believe me I have spent my efforts doing nothing else but trying to understand _how _she made this change in him."

"But how _could _she have? What could possibly turn a man to madness?"

"I think a drug. A very powerful one, but unfortunately I have not been able to work out _how _she was able to get the drug into his system, and without that knowledge I cannot find out _what _the drug is. Whatever it was, I think it is still being taken by him somehow." Haymitch's dusky blue eyes darted off to the side as he ran his hand into his hair in frustration before he continued.

"Believe it or not, your story has had an effect on him. When he left here, he went straight to Finnick, telling him all about your story of the fisherman. Finnick said he had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn't stood talking to the old Prince from before all this began." A small smile tugged at his lips wistfully, before setting his gaze on her determinedly again. "I don't think you realise, the effect your stories can have. The effect _you _can have. It's the only reason I'm here in fact. To help you plan your next move with him. And I think the stories are the answer."

Katniss considered his words. Telling stories had always seemed to Katniss to be like exquisite gems; a multitude of choices, of colours, facets all gleaming in the light. Each one valuable. Precious. Her English teacher had once taught her the importance of the _telling _of the story, by comparing the story itself to coal, and the storyteller became the pressure needed to convert the coal to pearls.

Katniss cared little for the fact that her teacher had meant diamonds. She found pearls to be prettier anyway.

She knew the power stories had on her, but she had never imagined or considered the power they could hold on others.

Was it possible, that by telling tales, someone could save a soul?

As much as Katniss no longer knew what to believe, she did realise that her mentor seemed to understand her on a level not many before had. Despite her doubts about Peeta, and despite Haymitch's many flaws, she found herself wanting to trust him, wanting him as an ally. And as she had very little in the way of other options, she felt at least for now, it would be prudent to follow his advice.

Taking a deep breath, she internally prayed that she was making the right decision, before looking up to her mentor once more.

"Can you help get me out of this room for a couple of hours? There's someone I need to see."

xXx

As Katniss did not yet know her way around the palace, she asked her two shadows for guards to guide her in the direction of the stables, in the hope she was well timed to meet with Peeta's friend Finnick. The guards were the only reason she was able to leave the room in the first place, an unavoidable condition of Haymitch's. They had at first seemed a little apprehensive to be taking her outside, until one had the bright idea to handcuff her to one of their wrists so that she could not make a break for it.

It was only when they stepped inside the stables, that they realised neither guard had the key to release her again.

Idiots.

Just as she began to release a tirade of expletives, a tall bronze skinned man stepped out from one of the horse stalls, and caused her to stop mid sentence and stare. His hair reflected the sunlight in coppery waves, his eyes were the shade of green that brought to mind the sea on a hot summer's day. She could tell working in the stables helped his physique; the way he filled out his simple white cotton shirt and brown leather breeches hinted at a toned muscular body beneath.

Katniss did not think she had seen anyone so breathtaking and flawless in her life.

She could not at first work out why it was that she did not find herself attracted to him, despite his obvious beauty. It was only when he began speaking that she knew why she didn't.

He certainly was an Adonis, but the upturn of his mouth as he talked to her spoke of how much he was aware of it.

"That's some very colourful language for a lady. Ah, but I see I am talking to the lady of fire. I doubt that your passion can be contained. Sugar cube?" She stared at the palm of his hand as he held up a small square of sugar towards her. Shaking her head, he threw it into his own mouth instead.

"I give them to the horses, but what can I say? I can't resist sweet things. Call it my only vice." He winked at her then, and she simply scowled back. If he was trying to flirt with her, it was simply making her uncomfortable, but she could see how that sort of thing would have the Capitol girls falling at his feet.

"So...you're the girl Peeta couldn't stop talking about this morning. I hear you used me for one of your stories. I can give you a lot more ideas for what else you can do with me if you like?" As Katniss began to blush, Finnick released a deep laugh that bubbled heartily from his chest. "Relax girl, I'm only teasing. You really are pure aren't you?"

She began to feel she was quickly becoming a means for mockery, so she began to look for a way to leave the stables as quickly as possible.

"Actually, I did come here to get more information about you to help with your character."

Finnick held a pleasing glint in his eye as he responded to her. "Oh? And have you found what you need? Found a muse in me have you?"

Katniss tried to contain the smirk that was fighting its way onto her face. "Yes, actually, you really have inspired me. I think I am going to have your head bitten off by a wild dog. The Prince would really like that I'm sure." Finnick's eyes widened briefly, before his throaty laugh once again echoed around the walls, soon joined by a higher pitched laugh from further within the stables.

"Wow Finnick, she certainly knows you well already!" As Katniss looked for the female voice that had invaded the space, a woman around her own height and age emerged and began walking towards them. Her hair was a chestnut brown, and had been cut to only a few inches in length. She had a surprisingly muscular frame for a woman, Katniss noted, and was dressed in extremely thick looking clothing covering her torso and legs. Wrapped around her waist was a leather apron with several metal tools inserted in various places. On her face and around her arms, she noticed smudges of dirt and ash that made it look like the girl had not bathed in a week.

"Jo, you might be of some use to our Princess here. Seems she's got herself tied up in a bit of bother."

Jo and Finnick seemed to share a meaningful smirk as they glanced towards her handcuffed wrist. Whatever joke they shared, she certainly did not feel in on it.

"Wow, I heard Cinna dressed you in fire for the bedroom, but I had no idea you were a fireball in the bed!" Katniss frowned to herself, trying to work out what was being implied by the strange girl's words.

She noticed Jo remove a tool from the dark leather apron tied around her. As Jo began to make quick and efficient work of the handcuff lock, Finnick began to properly introduce Jo.

"Katniss, this is Johanna Mason. She's the blacksmith for the stables. Makes and fixes the horseshoes in here – "

" – yeah, a waste of my bloody time and talent if you ask me..." Jo grumbled to herself.

Finnick simply gave her a look of understanding before continuing. "She used to make the weapons for the palace guards and the Royal family – "

"Yes, the best bloody weapons anywhere in Panem! The Prince knows there are none to rival mine. Have you _seen _the shoddy workmanship Brutus makes?! I could cut those swords in half with one of my horseshoes."

"Jo, you know it's not Haymitch's fault. He's looking out for you in all this mess." Finnick turned to Katniss to explain. "With everything that's been happening around here, Haymitch felt it best to move all female employees in areas away from the prince. So Jo was moved down the back here to work on things the Prince doesn't need to check on."

Jo simply muttered something to herself, before shouting "Voila!" as Katniss felt the cold hard metal that surrounded her wrist, and that of the guard's, drop to the floor.

Jo bent to pick up the handcuffs, but seemed to give Katniss a mischievous look.

"So...you've entered the lion's lair and survived eh? Just between you and me..." Jo inched closer to Katniss to speak into her ear, but still spoke the words loud enough for everyone there to hear, "...how big is the lion exactly?"

Katniss gave her a sideways look in confusion. "What?"

"You know...when you made the 'beast with two backs'. Come on, give me details! How was it?"

Jo seemed exasperated at her naive silence. "Are you always this brainless?" Turning to Finn, she gestured to her with her thumb. "This one's a pure one alright Finn. Which nunnery did Peeta get her from again?"

As soon as Katniss began to understand the girl's meaning, her whole face flamed in embarrassment.

"Look, men are fairly simple creatures at heart. They all lead with their dicks, even a King. You just need to give him a good roll around in the sack, and he'll be purring at your every word."

Katniss stared at her and huffed in frustration. "I don't know what that means. What sack?!"

Johanna gave her a pointed look before turning to Finnick. "Oh, this one's such a doll. The Prince sure has a handful with her." Noticing that Finnick was no longer joining in with her cajoling of Katniss, Jo turned back to her with a more serious look. "Look, I'm talking about _sex, _honey. Women have used it throughout the ages to bend men to their will. If you're all out of other physical weapons, that's one that you always bear on your person." Katniss could no longer sense any teasing in her tone.

As Jo began to walk away, she called over her shoulder. "Think about what I said. I'm always here if you ever need any advice."

Katniss could not deny she felt somewhat relieved that the experience shared with these two was over. Just as she began to retreat from the stables, Jo called to her one last time.

"Hey, Brainless...catch!"

Katniss had always had quick reflexes, so was not caught off guard by Jo's sudden throw of the handcuffs aimed at her head. As she stared down at them wondering why she had been given them back, Jo chimed up in a sing-song voice.

"No charge for the handcuffs. You might find they come in handy later tonight!" And with a quick wink, she disappeared back behind the stalls.

xXx

When Peeta returned that night, Katniss had once again been prepared by the maids in waiting. This time, she had been given time to eat before he returned. She had also been given ample time to prepare her story, and it gave her a confidence she had not yet felt at the palace.

She noticed as Peeta joined her back on the bed that his eyes looked almost bruised in their exhaustion. She thought he must not have slept in the whole time he was away from her. She began to wonder just how much sleep he ever got.

Neither of them spoke right away; they lay in their almost familiar positions now. Both lay their heads on the goose feathered pillows, with opposite arms jammed underneath their heads. They faced each other, letting candlelight slowly cast their faces in a warm orange glow as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He noticed a lock of hair had begun to tickle her nose, so he gently lifted his hand and tucked it back behind her ear. She did not flinch once, but gave him a small smile.

Katniss had needed to see Finnick to discover more about him; if she was to work people from Peeta's world into her stories, then she needed to be convincing. But she had more to her plan. With Haymitch telling her how she had reached Peeta with Finnick's character, she felt perhaps there was a way of going one step further.

She would work her and Peeta into the story.

Once the idea dawned upon her, the story she would weave seemed to create itself. She would include everything she knew about him, about her, all disguised in a web of fairy tales and mystery.

And so, she began. She continued the story of the fisherman, how he tricked the Jeni into sparing his life, and buried the pot in the centre of the desert. Later, the Emir discovered the secret of the treasure hidden somewhere in the Sahara, and to find it, sent many of his people to search. When eventually his own people grew restless of their leader, and began to refuse to travel the dangerous desert looking for the Jeni treasure, he invented a new games for his people, to keep them oppressed and within his power. As punishment for their disobedience, every year he selected twenty four children to be sent to the desert to search. None were allowed to return until they found the lamp, and only one was ever allowed to return if successful. It became a race to the death. With food and drink sources scarce, children turned to brutal methods to survive. Many turned into desperate killers. Ultimately though, there were never any winners.

Katniss introduced two teenagers to the story then. A girl with raven hair and a braid flowing down her back, who was proficient with a bow and arrow; and a shy blond boy, who was the baker's son, and had loved the girl since he was five years old. She told of a time the boy saved the girl's life, how he gave her bread from his parent's bakery, and was punished for it. And how on the eve of the girl's seventeenth birthday, they were both chosen to enter the desert.

All in all, her story seemed to have the Prince enraptured.

Occasionally, he would interrupt with questions, usually with simple checking of facts or wanting more detail in places. The boyish shy looks he gave her as she told him the story gave her confidence, fuelled her fire and passion to tell it.

Until all too suddenly, his looks turned troubled.

Katniss could not at first pinpoint what detail in the story changed the atmosphere between them. She had just told of how the boy had gone to the Emir and told of his love for the girl, and begged for her to be spared; how he would give anything for it. She could not see how Peeta had become agitated, so she continued to talk, hoping she could bring his focus back to her.

But she realised that somewhere along the line, she had definitely lost him.

As he jumped up and away from her and began pacing the room furiously, she could not help but be a little afraid of him in that moment.

"You're wrong, the girl is all wrong. I don't see why he would still be caring for her, when clearly she is going to betray him. She has to, she is a mutt. Kill her. Kill her in the story!"

Katniss saw the slightly wild movement to his pupils, how they quickly grew then receded and left little of the electric blue she had been seeing in the candlelight. Deep down, her instinct told her she needed to do whatever she could to calm the man in front of her, bring his focus back to her, help to trust where she was taking him in this imaginary world.

But she could not help herself throwing fire back at him in her response.

"Why is she wrong? You haven't even _tried _to understand her. You put men on a pedestal, and women are to you seen as nothing but flawed creatures destined for nothing but sin. But have you ever looked at the actions of your fellow men? What of the Emir in the story? The girl is doing what she can to _survive _in the situation_, _and yet you can overlook the barbaric actions that put her there?!" Katniss had begun to bark her last words out, and she felt the heat radiating off of her as her nails dug painfully into her palms. Now she had begun this fight, she was not about to turn back. He was going to consider her message within the story one way or another.

"Listen, do you want to go to the gallows now?! I could send for the executioner like _that _if I so chose! But instead, here I am giving you more time. Because I'm nice. Because I feel pity for you. And you owe me for that. So the least you can do – "

"Pity?!" Peeta had pushed her too far in his words. She jumped up and strode so quickly towards him, that he seemed momentarily stunned with the fire he could see behind her molten silver eyes.

She was standing so close to him in no time, thrusting her finger into his face as she continued to speak. She retaliated to his threat.

"You are nothing but a cowardly boy! Using threats, sending women to their deaths, you are nothing but spineless – "

Peeta opened his mouth, looking to cut her off in a furious tirade as his cheeks flamed and his jaw tensed, but Katniss was on a roll.

"I don't need your pity! And I own you _nothing. _NOTHING!" As her words echoed around the room, the Prince seemed frozen. Aside from the sound of their rapid breathing, nothing else was spoken between them.

Without warning, Peeta turned his back on her and left the room in silence.

xXx

As the first golden rays of dawn warmed her face for what she felt would be the last time, Katniss heard loud footsteps approaching her chamber door. Before she could turn around to face the doorway, she jumped at the loud crash of the heavy oak door colliding with the wall behind it.

She knew who would be standing in the doorway even before she looked up. She had heard his loud gait quite a few times moving around the space by now to recognise it.

His legs were planted sturdily beneath him, his hands twitched at his sides like he wasn't sure what to do with them. No words were spoken between them; she simply held his intense blue eyed gaze as she watched whatever internal struggle seemed to be raging through his mind.

_This is it_, she thinks. This is the moment she had been preparing herself for ever since he left. Still, if she was going to die, at least she was going to look her killer in the eyes. She would face death in defiance. She would take control. So she began to move, to meet her fate head on.

She had just reached the door when his voice stopped her. The words that broke the expanse of silence between them, were the last words she was expecting to hear.

"I – " His eyes darted away from her to the side of the room, before he slowly drew them back.

" – I remember about the bread."


	5. To dream

**I'm on holiday from Saturday, so I'm going to hopefully cue a chapter for you for next week. **

**So much glory and thanks to my beta **_**eatsnightlockforbreakfast, **_**for her patience with this chapter and all its wording problems; she always helps and encourages me to achieve the best quality in every part of my writing. I do feel she rescued this chapter from the brink of nonsense in places! **

**Find us both on tumblr. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Suzanne Collins, not me!**

_Sae had walked into the palace kitchens that morning to find the Prince had already beaten her there. She had always been more of a motherly figure to the young Prince than the Queen was; having taken a shining to him from a very young age. Indeed, he had always been a gentle soul, more taken by the beauty of the world. The colours of the paintings in the great gallery held more interest to him than the historic battles they depicted. Sae had secretly encouraged the softer nature of the Prince, despite his parent's wishes, and slowly he began to want to spend more time around Sae than anyone else in the palace. _

_Over the years, he spent more and more time with her in the kitchens, and she began to teach him all the skills she knew as his inquisitiveness grew. He had thrown himself passionately into the baking lessons she had been giving him, despite the many protests of the Queen. Unlike every other simple pursuit the Prince had tried to undertake, his father had allowed him to keep this one at least, seeing the passion and want in his eyes to do so. His mother had said that baking was a peasant's skill, that no son of hers would dirty his hands in such a way. But as long as he continued to excel at his compulsory studies, notably sword fighting and horse riding, then he saw no problem with Peeta having such a harmless, and dare he say, practical hobby. _

_And this was the morning Peeta had been especially looking forward to for weeks. Before now, he had been largely observing, and offering help here and there where needed._

_Today, he got to make his own choice of recipe. All by himself._

_He had chosen a simple bread recipe using fruits and nuts; he had watched Sae make it many times, and knew it was simple enough, yet still gave him enough of a challenge for him to feel pride when he completed it._

_Waiting for it to cool had been the truly hardest part. He could not wait to taste the fruits of his labours, to see how it compared to the bread he was used to savouring from the palace kitchens. If successful, he pictured the proud look on the King's face when he would be able to offer the loaf to his guests at dinner, in what would be Peeta's first public appearance in court preceding a tour of the districts, and announce his son had made it. His father had been talking of it for weeks._

_It was just as he was about to carve himself a slice when he noticed her through the kitchen window. Hunched for shelter in the cold late February air, at first he thought someone had left a sack of laundry outside, until he noticed the braids. The face that peeked out of her cloak showed her to be around his age, even though by her size, she seemed years younger. By what she was wearing he ascertained how cold she must be. _

_It was not the first time that people had come to beg around the palace. Peeta had always felt a need to help anyone and everyone that he could, and knew that as the Royal family they had the means and the responsibility to help their people. But whenever he did try to help in what way he could, his mother would somehow always be there to clip him around the ear, and yell to the trespassers to get away before she had them locked in the dungeons._

_With steely resolve, Peeta grabbed his loaf of bread, and stepped out into the rain. All at once, he became drawn to the tree by an unearthly melody. He only realised when he was before her, that it was the girl's singing he had heard. He remained for as many moments as he could steal, just basking in the glow of her voice that washed over him and into his soul._

_When he felt he could no longer eavesdrop on her private moment, he offered her the bread, expecting very little in the way of conversation between them. He almost expected her to snatch it from his hands in her haste to get away from the wicked Queen._

_Instead, the girl raised her eyes to him, which were at that moment alive in their grey intensity like a lightning storm flashing across a hot summer's sky, and began to shout. Began to shout at him._

_The pride in the girl's voice as she spoke to him took him aback for a few moments. He had not meant to offend her, nor did he offer her the bread out of pity, but more from a sense of duty to show community to his fellow man. Even so, this girl with the mercury eyes, had a fire and passion within her, the likes of which he had never before known, and stirred things in him he did not know he could feel. And in that moment, Peeta knew, he was a goner._

_Sae and Rye had always told him that he could spin words like gold, and he began to believe it for himself when he talked the girl into taking his bread. Seeing the small smile that graced her face when she had first tasted it made his heart as warm as the loaf she held, despite the cold rain firing at his skin. He could hardly believe his luck when he traded the loaf for a song from her beautiful lips._

_His mother disrupted the moment they shared, and Peeta hastened to return to the house lest the girl with the braids get in trouble. As he began to walk away, he remembered a bedtime story his father told him many years before. Of a Prince that fell in love with a maiden, and gave her a parting token as a declaration of his love for her while he was away in battle. A guarantee he would come back for her, and take her for his wife._

_Looking around quickly, trying to ignore his mother's harsh words from the doorway, his eyes picked up on the only bursting of colour in an otherwise grey wintry landscape. He bent over to pick up the sunny yellow dandelion; if it were a month or two later, he could pick from a wealth of flowers in the kitchen gardens. As it was, he knew the dandelion was a weed to many, but he could not help but smile at how appropriate a token it would be. A beautiful, if overlooked, flower for the girl with the silver eyes._

_He handed her the flower as quickly as he could, without stopping to wait for her reaction, before darting back to where his mother and Sae were waiting. He had given her his promise._

_One day, he knew, he would marry this girl._

xXx

As he stared at the girl with the fiery silver eyes and raven locks in front of him, he could not understand how he did not realise it immediately. The moment he saw her walk down that aisle towards him, he knew something nagged at him; a feeling of an important revelation, the feeling that _this _girl was important. The bewitching girl with the voice as silvery as her eyes, from all those moons ago in the icy rain, under an old apple tree; a girl he had spent years trying to find, had found her way to _him_. If he wasn't so shocked by the situation, it would be laughable. It was memory he fought hard to lock up and protect as the darkness settled on every other part of his brain, a vision he somehow knew he had to keep pure if he was himself to survive.

He wasn't sure what to expect from her response to his revelation. He tried not to care, but the twelve year old boy within him had hoped desperately that the memory had meant something to her, as it had to him. Something precious.

"So, now you know you've got me... What are you going to do with me?"

Peeta stared solemnly at the floor, like he seemed to be trying to summon any conviction to what he was about to say. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Katniss noticed his whole frame deflate with the long sigh that left his mouth. Slowly, he raised his eyes again and looked at her with eyes even more purple and sunken than before.

"I don't know. I don't...I'm just so tired."

Sensing he had once again not found sleep since he had left her, she could tell she would not need to speak much to convince him to spare her another day. "Then don't worry about it for now. Go to your duties, try and rest. I will be here like I was last night, and the night before. Will one more day make a difference?"

With barely a moment to consider her suggestion, he gave her a curt nod before he turned to leave her once more. Just as he had opened the door enough to step back outside, he paused with his back still to her. Katniss had to strain to catch the words that he uttered into the darkened hallway.

"I'm glad I got to meet you again at last."

xXx

Katniss had sent for her mentor practically the moment Peeta had left the room. She felt herself on the brink of something, and she needed advice of the only person who she felt was on the same page as her.

When Haymitch entered, he found her pacing the cream carpet. He looked surprisingly sober to her. She was half expecting him to be dripping from head to toe where he needed to be woken with a bucket of cold water to the face.

No such luck, it would seem.

"Well, glad to see you're your usual breezy self sweetheart."

"And I'm glad to see you're liver _does _get a vacation every once in a while." As much as she hated to admit it, she took an unusual pleasure in the words they fired back and forth to each other.

"Glad to see you made it another day at least. Dare I believe you've sent for me because you've changed your mind about the boy?" He took her silence as confirmation of his suspicions. "What happened then?"

"I don't know Haymitch... It's like he's two people. Sometimes, from this hellish figure, a young boy fights through, uncertain and unsure and so scared. And he's not sleeping either, which I don't think helps his moods, especially the constant shaking. Has no one noticed? Why isn't anyone trying to help him sleep?"

"Of course we've noticed! But the boy won't let any doctors near him. He trusts no one. He wakes screaming from so many nightmares now, and I'm sure he stays up finding ways to spend his time so he doesn't have to try to sleep any more. Before you got here, I'm quite sure the boy hadn't laid on a bed for months."

"And believe me sweetheart, I tried to get him to take sleeping pills, but after he tried them once and had nightmares of his mother coming to attack him while he lay paralysed in bed, well he just won't try anything anymore."

Katniss pondered her mentor's words, still not sure how she felt about it all.

"There wasn't anything else that made you send for me now was there?"

Katniss was unsure of whether she wanted to share such a precious secret with anyone else. She had kept it largely to herself for so long, only confiding in Prim recently. Now that she knew he remembered her, a small part of her hoped the Prince had kept it as much a precious secret as she had.

"He...remembered something. Did he tell you we met as kids Haymitch?" One subtle shake of his head showed he was not aware. "Well, we did. I never expected him to remember it, even under normal circumstances, but that he remembered it all this time, and that it came back to him last night..." she gave a long wistful sigh. "I don't know, maybe you are right. Maybe he isn't beyond help. Maybe..." She trailed off, utterly at a loss for what to do next. It was why she had sent for Haymitch after all. Someone who thought like her, who could tell her what she needed to do.

"Listen sweetheart, I see what you are thinking. I understand your confusion. Believe me, in this place, it's difficult to find it possible to trust yourself sometimes. But that feeling you have deep down, the one that wants to help? I'd listen to it if I were you. Try to help him. If it doesn't work, hell, I'll be the first one to hand you a dagger to fight the demons at your door. But until then... Try to gain the boy's trust."

Katniss gave Haymitch an incredulous look. "How am I supposed to do that? He trusts nobody. You said so yourself. And to add to that, I'm a woman, the lowest of the low in his eyes."

"Yes, and yet you've been here just two days and already he's shown more of his old self in that time than he has in the whole time since this happened. You still don't realise the effect you have on him, do you?"

"He could still decide to execute me come sunrise you know Haymitch. We could simply be delaying the inevitable here."

"If that happens, you know what to do. Buy time, any way you can. Make it past sunrise, and he will have to wait another day. You know he will." Katniss was well aware of the customs behind executions at sunrise. It was an ancient tradition in Panem, that went far back to their ancestors. A time when births and deaths were holy, and a person's welcome to or exit from this world added to the ether of a spiritual energy said to link every living being, forged when the earth was born from embers and rock. Sunrise meant rebirth, it meant cleansing and forgiveness for a fresh start. It was logical to assume her death would only come at sunrise; no one dared take a life at any other time of day if they could help it.

Gripping her shoulders tightly, Haymitch met her glare with a steely resolve. "Katniss...trust me. You can do this." He began to move to leave, but stopped and turned to her one last time.

"Oh, and the Prince sent this for you by the way. He felt you might like to write to your family. A thoughtful gesture from such a _tyrant, _wouldn't you say girlie?"

Seeing he had made his point, he tossed the writing set at her with a smirk, before leaving her to her own company once more.

xXx

That evening, Katniss found herself waiting anxiously for the Prince's arrival. To fill the time after Haymitch's visit, she had written to her sister, slept, drawn herself a long bath, and then waited impatiently for any further instruction from him. With each passing hour, her anger at her mentor grew and grew. No doubt he had forgotten all about her, and was instead somewhere in the palace passed out in a puddle of his own filth.

So much for having her back.

Her thoughts drifted once again to Peeta. All afternoon, she had dwelled on the tear in her conscience. One part of her wanted to hope alongside Haymitch and Prim, that Peeta was still in there somewhere, and just needed the help to find himself again. Although she had little confidence in her own ability to bring him back, she could not deny the flashes of the kindhearted Prince she had seen in the few days she had spent around him. She wanted to believe, truly she did.

But then there was a second voice within her, a voice that also composed many of her nightmares. It screamed of the women that had been murdered at the Prince's orders; of the guilt he could never remove from himself. Even if he were under the influence of some drug, and even if he could come back to her, could he forgive himself of that? Could she?

It was around half an hour before she expected the Prince to return when she received some contact with the outside world. A servant wheeled in a food cart, with two large silver cloches on top. Katniss caught a faint whiff of rosemary emanating from whatever food lay underneath. The servant, rather than retreating quickly, paused to look at her uncomfortably before leaving. His eyes darted around the room, then to the door, before pointedly settling on her face.

"Miss...Venison stew, courtesy of _Mr Abernathy_ ma'am."

Katniss stood for a long time staring at the trolley. If the servant had left in a ball of flames, she would not have noticed. She was far too caught up in his words...

_Courtesy of Mr Abernathy._

Katniss had been expecting a re-appearance of Haymitch himself; so she had hoped, and fully expected, to at least find some form of communication beneath the silverware; something to give her further instruction on how to play this evening.

But lifting the silver dome that wasn't covering the stew, she was disappointed at what she discovered beneath. No note, no clear message of any kind. Hell, she knew she would not be lifting the lid to find a curled up Haymitch smuggled beneath, but this...

All that sat on the silver plate beneath, was a small pot of dark berry sauce... and a knife.

No, not just a knife. Not the kind of knife you would use to butter a bread roll, or carve a sliver of cheese. This was...practical, but in a different sense. It was cold. Deadly. Glistening hard silver handle, with a threatening blade about four inches in length. Haymitch had smuggled her in a dagger.

After their earlier conversations, Katniss could not fathom why Haymitch had sent her a weapon. The very same weapon he had mentioned in passing too. They seemed to be on the same wavelength when he left, weren't they? Had something suddenly happened with the Prince since he left her alone? Surely if it had, he would have found a clearer way to tell her of the change in plan. It made no sense.

Unless...

Unless it wasn't intended as a weapon. She had a feeling there was more to his gifts than met the eye.

He wasn't trying to help her kill the man, surely she could rule that out? But then, what was he trying to tell her?

Her gaze finally took in the pot of sauce she had almost overlooked.

As she sniffed at its familiar scent, Haymitch's voice once again permeated her brain along with the smell. It was like he was in the room speaking his message to her himself, with that sarcastic tone she had grown used to, that seemed to imply he could not have spelt it out to her any clearer.

_Stay alive._

He had meant both of them, she knew that. Even if she did not agree it was possible to save them both, he did.

And the smell of the berries had made her realise it, as they whisked her back to her childhood. Memories of sickness, times her mother had fed her and Prim sleep medicine made from a particular kind of aromatic berry from the forest. Berries that were strong in their syrupy consistency as well as their sweet ambrosia honeyed taste.

All at once, she knew what Haymitch was telling her. Knew what he wanted her to do with the gifts he had provided her.

She knew what she needed to do with them. Which path she would take, her conscience was not so sure.

What she did know, was that she needed to hide the dagger away until she needed it. So she carefully placed it back under the cloche with the berry sauce.

Finally, she sent a request to the kitchens for the dessert she wanted brought to the room later that evening.

Katniss had just had enough time to change into a light orange silk vest and matching silk trousers when Peeta entered the room. They exchanged a glance before he crossed to sit on the gilded chaise longue at the end of the bed; she did not fail to notice him glance down at how the silk caressed her figure in certain places as he did so.

His voice sounded gruff and slightly raw when he did speak.

"I thought I would make it clear. This changes nothing you know. I still expect you to complete your story tonight, and you will still meet your fate tomorrow at dawn. Do you understand?"

"As you wish. Before we start the story, do you mind if we eat first? I have been staring at the food trolley for nearly an hour now, and I'm starving."

Peeta consented with a wave of his hand, before leaning his arms on his knees and staring at the floor while she served them both some of the broth in two bowls. He still looked desperately tired, but he had cleaned himself up a little better than the last time he stepped into the room earlier that morning. Now, his honey spun hair was swept back neatly on his head, clearly revealing his strong forehead and piercing blue eyes. The long sleeved shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows neatly and looked freshly pressed, clinging to him almost like a second skin, and allowed Katniss to peek at the expanse of muscle that strained against the cotton material.

There was no doubt about it; Peeta had grown into a strikingly handsome man, despite his current character flaws.

She noticed he must have shaved after she saw him that morning, for the hair on his chin was slightly shorter, but there was still a slight trace of stubble where it had begun to grow back. She could remember the rough yet smooth feel of it under her fingers, and the thought of what it would feel like on other parts of her skin had her clenching her thighs together.

Katniss quickly chastised her brain before it took her to places she was not willing for it to go.

He tried to reject his bowl when she brought it to him, but Katniss refused to eat alone. Begrudgingly, he took the warm aromatic broth from her and began to slowly eat it.

She watched him eat the broth she had served him, and noticed how his hands trembled with every lift of the spoon. Seeing that he managed to send more of it back into the bowl than into his mouth, she inched closer to him on the bench and went to still his hand.

"Here, let me."

Slowly and softly, as if not wanting to frighten a wild rabbit, Katniss slowly lifted a fresh spoonful of the broth from the bowl to the Prince's lips. As he opened his mouth to let her feed him the spoon, he would not take his blue orbs off her. They held a vulnerability within them. It was the first time Katniss truly felt in the presence of the innocent boy she met under that old apple tree so many moons ago.

She talked herself into believing that the unrelenting desire she strongly felt to protect this man in front of her, to look after him, was simply to help gain his trust. The conflicting emotions that were stirred in her from his resulting smiles, were chalked down to her gaining the upper hand. It couldn't be anything else.

As she drained the last of his soup from the bowl for him, he gave her a shy smile.

"Thank you."

"It's fine. I mean, you did feed me once." And all at once, the lush carpets and satin sheets and rose scented air fell away. As they continued to hold each other's gaze, their surroundings were replaced with a time six summers earlier, surrounded by the scents of apples and dew; the bed sheets a meadow of wild flowers, and a carpet of cold earth at their feet.

"I tried to find you, you know. For a long time. But nobody knew who you were. Eventually, you became a distant dream. I was convinced the girl with the braids was a fairy child; a spirit not of this earth."

"Oh?" Katniss wasn't sure how to respond to his confession. Or how to feel. He had just admitted to thinking about her all this time, as much as she had him. She had to wonder how long he had tried to find her. And why he would even bother with someone as insignificant as herself. "And what do you think now?"

Tucking a stray hair from her braid back behind her ear, Peeta didn't break her gaze when he responded in a breathy voice, "With the effect you seem to have on me...I can't help but think I was right."

Katniss felt her breath hitch in her throat. Somewhere in their conversation, they had moved far closer to each other than she was aware. She could not deny that her body leaned in as much as his was currently leaning towards her, and both seemed to breathe as heavily as the other. The feeling of his hand, which had placed a strand of hair behind her ear and still remained resting lightly on her cheek, caressed her ear gently and sent goosebumps in waves down her neck to reach her toes. She watched as his lips parted slightly, and noticed his gaze dart to her mouth. His warm breath caressed her lips as he leaned closer, like the stroke of a butterfly's wings, and she found her eyes drifting closed as his hand softly helped to guide her head towards his with the feather lightest of touches...

The loud clank of the door handle turning as the door opened had them springing apart from one another. Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she cleared her throat and turned away from him to watch as their intruder took away the terrine of soup and replaced it with what she assumed to be their dessert for the evening.

Once the servant had left, an awkward silence settled on the pair. She did not know what had come over her in that moment, but she became aware that once again, they had barely finished dinner, and already she had been distracted from her plans by him.

She couldn't understand the effect he seemed to have on _her._

Determined to get back on course, she stood to walk to the food cart once again, trying to ignore the perturbed look Peeta seemed to be giving her. "How about we carry on with the story as I prepare dessert for us?"

Seeming to be resigned to the fact that the moment, whatever it was, had passed, the Prince sighed and ran his hand through his blond locks before replying to her.

"Sounds good. What did they bring us anyway?"

"I requested it myself, thought you might like it. It's cinnamon pancakes, with a wild berry sauce."

Katniss had remembered Peeta saying that she could order anything she desired from the kitchen. It just so happened, she desired something that would take some assembly. Something she would have a reason to be putting together in his bowl.

And the 'wild berry sauce' was a necessary part of her dish.

So she began to stack the pancakes equally between the two dishes, dribbling sauce and icing sugar between each layer as she continued her tale. Picking up from the moment the boy begged the Emir to spare the girl's life, she told of how the Emir refused to show pity, and sent every child out separately into the desert, each with a map of the areas already searched, a canteen of water, a weapon of their choice, and a small ration of food. The boy had promised the girl he would find her in the desert, protect her, no matter what.

She then told of how the boy became concerned with the widespread knowledge of the girl's prowess with the bow and arrow. How he teamed up with the stronger children, children that volunteered to go to the desert games, to seek their fortune and glory, and began to help them track the girl in the desert sand –

" – Wait. _He_ betrays _her? _Why would he do that?"

Rather than answer him, Katniss simply lifted one eyebrow at him to question his interruption.

"Who's telling this story? If you keep interrupting and losing my train of thought, I will just have to stop altogether." The Prince frowned slightly at this, looked to respond, but bit back whatever he wanted to say, and instead nodded for her to continue. Katniss, pausing in thought, looked back at the pancakes she had finished preparing. "Hmm...I'd say this is a good place to stop and have desert, don't you think?"

Bringing his dish over to where he now sat on the bed, she took a seat beside him and began to help him cut up the pancakes, making sure to dip the pieces generously in the berry sauce before lifting a forkful to his lips.

After letting out a small moan of appreciation for the taste of his first mouthful, he looked to her again. "Are you not having any?"

Suddenly on the spot, Katniss thought fast. "I will have mine after you have had yours. I want to make sure you have eaten properly your highness."

"Nonsense. We can share mine now. Take a forkful."

"No, no, I insist. Please, just let me look after you first. Please?" Her last word came out in a soft whisper as she looked at him gently. His small nod only made the knots in her stomach that much tighter.

If he noticed her hands were the ones that now trembled, he did not comment on it.

"This berry sauce... it's surprisingly sweet. What berries are in it?"

"Erm... they're a kind of sugar berry. I used to pick them a lot as a child in the woods behind our house."

"They seem familiar. I don't think I've ever had them before for dessert though..."

Katniss tried desperately to speed up feeding him the desert, before he could keep talking. He suppressed a yawn as he continued. "I feel like I've had this..." another yawn, "as a child..."

It was as the last bite passed his lips that she saw recognition dawn on his face. It seemed he was remembering a lot of his past lately.

Sleep syrup. She had drugged him with sleep syrup.

Peeta spat out the bite within his mouth, but it was too late for him; he had ingested more than she required him to. He fought desperately to regain control of his senses and his limbs, but Katniss knew that within moments he would be heavily under the syrup's potent effects. All she needed to do was use one hand to stop him from screaming to alert the guards, while the other arm held down his quickly weakening arms as they tried and failed desperately to grab onto anything to stop the inevitable. Tears ran tracks down her cheeks as she stared at the look of hurt, fear, and betrayal he gave her. She knew the reflection she could see of herself in his panicked blue eyes would be in her nightmares.

Soon, his movements grew sluggish, and Katniss was only just in time to guide him down to lay fully on the bed before he rolled off the edge. Knowing she could not look in his eyes any further, she turned away from him and wiped her tears as she walked back over to the dinner cart.

Peeta lay diagonally across the four poster bed, his upper body twisted facing the door. The syrup had already taken over the rest of his body, his mind being the last to give up the fight. As Peeta felt his eyes begin to flutter closed for the last time, the last image to ingrain itself in his memory was of Katniss, slowly removing a dagger from its hiding place...


	6. By the cold light of day

**Thanks so much to all the wonderful reviews so far, they really do make me motivated to write faster. You've all been lovely in your feedback, and I just want to thank you all for trusting where I've been taking this story.**

**THose that leave me feedback every chapter - you are especially awesome!**

**Once again, thanks to my beta eatsnightlock for breakfast..you rock girl!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters etc belong to Suzanne Collins. **

_He could not move. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling, but the rest of his body lay paralysed. He could feel the soft sheets beneath his fingers, see the familiar chandelier above him reflecting the soft flames from the fireplace in every glass teardrop. The antique clock on the mantelpiece ticked again and again, the sound seeming to get louder the longer his ears focused on it. There was still a trace of the brandy he had savoured after dinner left in his mouth. He could smell it's strong odour on his breath. Yes, every sense seemed to be working as it should._

_He just could not _move.

_Panic began to grip him as he tried to kick his foot, wiggle a finger, anything. The only part of him that had any movement were his eyes._

_And those eyes picked up movement at the bedroom door._

"_Miss me, darling?"_

_No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be her._

"_I thought you might be lonely tonight, so I thought I would keep you company."_

_Where were the guards? How could she be here...with him?_

"_I released the guards from their duty for the night... looks like it's just you and me Aiden."_

_He realised all at once where he was, and who he was. And more terrifyingly, when._

"_You seem a lot more morose than usual...that brandy I sent you must have relaxed you more than you were expecting..."_

_He could only stare at her wide eyed and unblinking as she continued to slink slowly towards him, her blood red nails clawing at the blue silk of her dress as she got closer and closer._

"_Ah Aiden...I can see from your eyes you know why I'm here. I never could keep things from you now could I?"_

_His eyes tried to dart to the door, desperately hoping for someone to sense his danger. _

_But she kept on moving forward, the train of her dress rustling across the floor behind her._

"_Well it has to be done I'm afraid. Perhaps if things had turned out differently...if I hadn't met Snow, or you had only given me the daughter I wanted. But you failed there too didn't you, as you fail your country now. You gave me nothing but sons. Peeta, the apple of your eye, your pride and joy. I had to watch as you preened that good for nothing for the throne. He's as useless as you always were." And then she was there, leaning over him with her dusty blonde locks tickling his face, and reaching across him for the pillow laying beside his head..._

_Still, he couldn't move. He had to find a way to stop this. He had to stop her. _

"_Goodnight Aiden."_

_Her fingers left indents in the cushion where she clutched it tightly. He was stuck in a prison of paralysis, and could only watch in horror as she brought it down towards his face..._

_Darkness was the first thing to descend. Terror came very soon after...sheer terror became his only friend in that moment. Unable to fight or even move, he could only focus once again on every sense, which seemed to be heightened tenfold. He began to choke on the air in his own lungs, unable to breathe in or even expel the air within them. The pain was excruciating; his lungs were on fire from the air that tried to claw its way out of his chest, and he could hear the blood pumping desperately through his head. _

_With his last conscious act, he tried to take himself to a better place. In a courtyard with a boy, his blond haired blue eyed boy, barrelling up to him and babbling a mile a minute about a girl he had met, a girl he would marry. How he found the courage to give her... give her..._

_He was finding it harder and harder to keep the conscious thought in his head, but he would not let her take this memory from him before he could finish it. He had just enough time to remember the feel of his hands ruffling the boy's soft curls, smiling down at him, telling him how proud he was of him, how he was always proud..._

_The boy's blue eyes were the last thing to disappear as his thoughts faded away into the blackness._

xXx

Peeta's nightmare receded slowly, like the waves on a shore after a storm, leaving very little evidence in its wake. His eyes were the first part of him to come back to the waking world. He had yet to shake the fog that had settled on his brain, but he blinked several times against the soft blue dawn light that settled around him. The rest of his limbs began to stir back to life, and he realised he was still dressed in his normal clothes, but his shoes had been removed and placed neatly by the door.

He also realised something else; his right hand felt heavy and warm. Looking down at it, he noticed another hand holding his. Katniss. He stared at the image of the intertwined fingers before him, taking in the way his larger hand seemed to dwarf hers in a beautiful way. Still in his sleep induced haze, he allowed his thumb to graze along her index finger, feeling her slightly calloused skin under the pad of his own thumb as he traced lazy circles along its length.

He thought he was alone until the moment he felt her hand in his, at which point his eyes seemed to be magnetised to the rest of her. He found her slumped in one of the armchairs, which had been moved so that it was closer to him on the bed, but facing the door.

Sensing he had awoken, Katniss turned her head to face him. Her hand darted away from his almost as rapidly as the rosy blush appeared on her cheeks. She mumbled a good morning to him as she tried to stifle a yawn.

Peeta tried not to think about how much more attractive she looked when flustered. He tried not to let his attraction to her affect him at all.

From the early dawn sunlight that entered the room, he could catch a glimpse of the dagger in her left hand; the last image he remembered before waking.

_So it wasn't a hallucination._

All at once, the fog lifted, and the rest of his limbs jolted fully awake. He could not help rapidly glancing down at himself, checking he was still in one piece. To his utmost surprise, nothing seemed different from the night before, when he took the sleep syrup.

When Katniss force fed him the sleep syrup.

Before he could think about it, he was up off the bed and had met her in two short strides to where she had risen from the chair. He grabbed violently at the wrist that still held the dagger, twisting it until he heard a yelp of pain from her followed by the soft thud of the knife as it landed on the carpet at their feet. She tried to step back and away from him, but every time she did so he closed the distance, until his body pinned her against the wall. He held her wrist in place next to her head; her other hand gripped tightly at the arm that pinned her neck with his forearm.

"I knew I was right not to trust you. You're just like all the others. Vile. Distrustful. Deadly." He did not think he had ever been as close to her as he was at this moment. He could see the flecks of the different greys in her irises mould together as he fired his words in her face.

"Think what you like, but I had good reason to do what I did." She struggled for a few moments against his grip, causing her body to rub against his. He tried to ignore the way the friction made his cock twitch, along with the feel of her breasts rising and falling against his chest in time with her rapid breathing.

"Why did you drug me then?! Just what the hell were you trying to do?!"

"I was trying to get you to sleep! I could tell you hadn't slept properly in months. Your incessant shaking was surely a testament to just how much your body needed rest!"

"Oh and you needed to drug me to do that?!"

"Yes of course I did! People have been trying to get you to sleep for months!"

He scoffed at that. "And you couldn't have thought to just ask?"

"And if I did, are you telling me you would have done as I asked?" His silence was the confirmation she needed of her doubts. "I thought not. I'm sorry for having to trick you the way I did, but I can't say that I'm sorry for doing it."

"You didn't just trick me, you tried to kill me! I saw you! If it wasn't enough to manipulate my kindness by force feeding me that poison, I then had to watch you as you reached for that dagger from the trolley. What's the matter sweetheart, too spineless to even finish the job?!"

"Wha – wait, I didn't... – you weren't supposed to see that..."

"Oh I'm certain I wasn't" he sneered.

"I never intended to use the dagger on you!" He was wrong to think their faces could not get any closer when she raised her chin up in anger. Her lips were so close, he could almost feel their smoothness and heat against his own chapped ones.

Peeta could not help but laugh bitterly at the comments coming from her mouth. "Right, and I'm supposed to just believe that you had a dagger in here for my health?! You must take me for an absolute fool."

"At this point, frankly yes! Don't you think that if I had any other intentions then you would be dead right now?!" She closed her eyes to take a breath to calm herself, then her voice became softer as she continued. "Think about it carefully – you were out cold. I had a weapon. And yet, here you are...and here I am."

He released his arm from her neck to contemplate her words. "So...you really just wanted me to sleep?" He noticed the slight nod of her head as she refused to look his way.

"Then why did you need the dagger?"

"For your protection. That's all it was ever here for. No matter what you might think."

He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he had awoken. He took in her slightly paler face, the dark circles around her eyes; a colour he recognised all too well, the kind of shadow that lay testament to many a restless night.

She hadn't slept. At all. She had stayed awake, the wrinkles in her satin sleepwear evidence of long hours sitting in the same position...in a chair that he only then realised was in a position to guard the door as well as watch over him while he slept. He took in the glass of water placed next to his pillow on the nightstand, his shoes neatly placed at the door ready for him to collect upon waking.

Finally, the memory that still left a faint tingle in his hand...of her warm fingers entwined with his. A gesture of protection and compassion.

Still feeling some residual animosity, he could not help but show a little hostility at her still, but his voice had lost its violent edge. "Did it not occur to you, that if I hadn't awoken before sunrise, you would have been taken to your execution?" Peeta noticed her eyes widen slightly at this, but if he had shocked her, she composed herself well. After a few moments, her gaze locked onto his again, chin held high, and he could see that same fire in her eyes.

"It wouldn't have mattered anyway."

Peeta was confused by her statement. "Why not?"

"Because I don't think you're wrong to distrust people here...I'm not sure who to trust myself. So I wasn't going to leave you unprotected. I wasn't going to do that."Katniss had not broken her steely gaze once as she spoke to him. Every word that fell from her mouth seemed punctuated with intent and resolve, like a promise. "And as long as you were sleeping, nobody was getting through that door."

He was shocked to discover that he believed her. Sure, her actions, or rather lack of action while he was sleeping, did seem to dispel any doubt of her intentions. But none of that mattered to him. At that moment in time, he only knew two things. One, he had finally been able to sleep, albeit through trickery and deceit. And two; around this girl, he felt safe.

"You're trying to protect me?" He could hear the change in his own voice; no longer strong and masculine, but rather a whisper more suited to a scared but hopeful boy than a future King.

Katniss looks up at him curiously before nodding her ascent.

"...Why?"

Any answer she had intended to respond with died in her throat, when they both realised at the same time the movement on her hip. His hand, no longer at her neck, had travelled down to rest on the skin peeking out between her soft orange silk top and her matching pants. His thumb traced patterns on her skin of its own accord, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Slowly, while keeping his heated gaze locked on hers, he felt his hand begin to slide more firmly around her hip to rest on the small of her back. He was moments away from using it to draw her even closer, so that he could crash his lips to hers...

And then he noticed the wrist still held loosely in his other hand. The red marks that had begun to appear on her olive skin, matched perfectly to his own hand.

He sprung away from her, and a feeling akin to shame washed over him. All this time, he treated her as the predator, but here he could see it had been him all along.

Katniss stared at him confused and flushed, still breathing heavily, as he quickly moved to the door. He paused just as he reached it, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Without turning to face her, he asked..."In the story; the boy. Tell me one thing...does he _really _betray her?"

"You'll just have to wait for tonight to find out." He turned his head to look at her then and she gave him a wry smile. "Although I would have thought you would have worked out the answer anyway, after all that happened to you last night."

"And what is that?"

"That sometimes... not everything is as it seems."

He gave her a contemplative look before kneeling down to collect his shoes. He spoke in a low voice to the guards so she would not hear, but one last glance at Katniss's shocked expression before retreating into the hallway told him she had heard every word.

"_My wife needs rest. Nobody is to disturb her unless she wishes it. And guard this door with your lives."_

xXx

There was never really any question in her mind as to what she would do with the gifts Haymitch sent that night. He had provided her with exactly what she had asked him for; something to both gain Peeta's trust, and help him sleep. She knew that no-one would have laid blame to her if she had chosen to use the dagger for a more deadly means, and she would be lying if she claimed the thought hadn't occurred to her. But for whatever reason, she knew that she couldn't. She couldn't seem to separate him from the boy she knew, no matter how much her conscience tried to make her. Her nightmares continued to be her company in the early hours when sleep eventually took its toll, fuelled with knowing that the deaths of all his other wives landed at his feet. But despite being conflicted by her guilt, she just knew that if she took this boy's life, a part of her would always remain in that room, trying to fight for a way to save him.

Haymitch came to visit her around midday, after she had rested. Katniss had believed his visit was based on the success of his plan with the sleep syrup. One look at his face in the doorway and she knew he had more serious thoughts pressing on his mind. His eyes no longer held their usual sarcastic sparkle, but rather cold conflict lurked in their depths. His chin held at least two nights of growth from where he had not shaved, perhaps as a result of not having gone to bed at all.

It seemed nobody got much sleep around here.

"What's happened?"

"Good to see you too, sweetheart." He walked silently over to the liqueur cabinet, before seeming to decide against it, instead pouring himself a glass of orange juice left over from her breakfast trolley that morning.

"Haymitch, I can tell you haven't come here for our usual tete-a-tete, so will you please tell me if something's going on?" He finished swallowing the last of the bright yellow liquid, and stared at the empty tumbler in his hand for a minute before he began.

"We found out how the Prince was being drugged this morning."

Katniss certainly hadn't expected to hear such a revelation, but felt oddly relieved. "How?"

"His food. It was being laced with tracker jacker venom, a drug from a variety of – "

"I'm aware of tracker jacker wasps Haymitch. I was stung as a child in the woods behind our house. I nearly died." At the memory, a chill went through her as she made the connection. "Is... is _he_ dying from it?"

"Not from the size of the doses he was receiving, no. It can be deadly if too much gets in the system, but mostly the plan seemed to be to cause hallucinogenic properties, one of its main symptoms in fact. Others include severe shaking, confusion, lack of sleep. You name it, he had it. In extended doses, it can alter memories and personalities in patients. Make them think things are real when they aren't. Feel they are in constant threat and danger. Invoke a sense of constant paranoia."

"How long has he been drugged for, exactly?"

"At least as long as Glimmer was around, we can assume that. So about six months." Katniss could only puff out the air she had been holding in her lungs in shock at his response.

"The most worrying thing is that the two servant staff have worked for the Palace for as many years as Peeta's been on this Earth. If they could commit treason so easily, it begs the question if anyone in the Palace can be trusted anymore."

"So they were in cahoots with Peeta's mother, is that it?"

The glass made a clink in the otherwise silent room as he set it down. "I'm not sure. They definitely weren't acting alone. It's just..." He ran a hand across the scruff forming on his face before he continued. "His mother hated fraternising with staff, and I mean absolutely despised it. She treated all staff with such disrespect... and yet these girls won't say a word about who they're working for, even when offered immunity from the death sentence. And I don't think she was capable of forming the kind of loyalty they have shown in their silence."

"So then, if not her, who?"

"There's a woman in thirteen, rumoured to be Snow's mistress. Her name's Coin. Apparently, she has strong connections with people across the districts."

Katniss grew slightly frustrated at the conversation. Haymitch seemed to be being deliberately vague. And she wanted answers.

"I don't understand how that means she should be a suspect."

"Coin is also Glimmer's mother."

"Oh."

_Ding! _A loud metallic sound filtered in from the dripping tap of the showerhead in the other room, reflecting the moment it dawned on her what he was telling her. At any other time, Katniss may have found the timing of the noise comical.

"Yes. Until this morning, I had hoped it was just an unhappy coincidence. But when our investigations led us to the kitchen, well... Coin used to work in the palace kitchens, but not for very long; she left around the time Peeta was born. While she was here, she was responsible for the hiring of kitchen staff. Most of the staff that work there now had either been there before her, were hired after she left. All but those two."

"I see. If it is her, then why is she doing this?"

" I don't know, but there's more. You must know the rumours surrounding the King's death?" She was not sure how anyone couldn't have heard the widespread rumours that circulated at the time. It was so shocking to the whole of Panem, it was understandably all the news on anyone's lips for several weeks afterwards. He had been found suffocated in his bed on the eve of Peeta's eighteenth birthday. The Queen had disappeared, the whole nation was in an uproar on the future of the monarchy.

"Well, most came to accept his mother lay behind it. Hell, you couldn't blame anyone for thinking it; he was dead in his bed, and her chamber was left in such disarray it was clear someone had left in a hurry. Her disappearance was the final nail in the coffin. Even Peeta and his brother Rye have accepted her the culprit. And Peeta has always carried the guilt around with him, that he should have seen it coming. Should have done something to help his dad."

"Is that what he has nightmares about?"

"Probably."

Katniss gave him a sideward glance. "Why do I think you have more to say on this Haymitch?"

"Look, it's just my own theories, but it never settled well with me. It all seemed a little too obvious. We all know the Queen had a bad reputation for being an insatiably angry woman. But, if you saw her with the King... Well, there was love there. You had to work around them for a long time to recognise it, but there was. Small things she did for him, the way she looked at him." He shook his head slowly. "And if nothing else, she had all the power she needed here. Why would she seek any more? It doesn't make sense."

"But, there were rumours about her settling with Snow in Thirteen weren't there?"

"Yeah, sure, but nobody I've asked has actually seen her in Thirteen with him. I'm not entirely sure anyone has seen her since." It took her a few moments to realise the heavy implications of his words. The rabbit hole ran far deeper than anyone realised.

"So, let's imagine for a moment that someone else were behind it. What better way to send a man to distraction and distrust, than by taking away the one person he most admired in all the world - his father - and laying the blame at his own mother's door."

"Oh my God..."

"Yep. And then of course, Glimmer comes along. Another woman, gaining and then betraying the boy's trust. It would send any man over the edge with the amount of venom coursing through his veins. That boy must have been more tracker than man at one point."

Katniss did not know how long she had been silently staring at the floor lost in her own thoughts when Haymitch spoke again.

"Listen sweetheart, until he's more recovered, I don't want the Prince knowing about this. Understand? He doesn't need to know this right now."

She felt could only agree to the man's wishes; he had helped her so much so far, and unlike everyone else she had met, she knew deep down that she could trust him. So she nodded her understanding at him and, satisfied, he gave her a small smile.

"Something's coming sweetheart; we don't know when, but something's definitely playing out behind the scenes. You might want to prepare yourself. And the boy."

Katniss gave her mentor a slow nod, at which point he turned to leave. As he opened the door, his voice took on a far more upbeat tone. "Why don't you try out the training room next door to the stables at some point? Might be good to get you a bit of exercise, don't you think?" His tone was breezy, but there was something in his dark blue eyes that had Katniss gripping the hidden meaning behind his words. With one final nod in her direction, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her once again alone with her thoughts.

xXx

That evening, Katniss had continued the story where she had left off from the night before. Peeta learned that the boy had not betrayed the girl, but instead out of love for her had made an alliance with some of the stronger competitors in order to protect her. The boy's opportunity had arisen when he had led them through the desert on a false trail, one he knew had been left by the girl herself, in the hope that she would take the opportunity presented to her to sneak back to their camp and steal their food and water supplies.

Katniss kept Peeta on the edge of his seat as she continued on, telling of how the girl had indeed taken the opportunity, but was fortune's fool when the group had headed back for their camp sooner than the boy had hoped. Finding the girl still filling her bag with their supplies, they closed in on her. The girl notched her bow with an arrow quickly, before letting it fly to strike one of the sword wielding members straight through the centre of the chest. Arrow after arrow she fired, trying to injure or scare rather than kill unless absolutely necessary. The boy had joined her to fight alongside her, keeping most dangerous attacks at bay, but not before being struck in the leg by the ringleader's sword.

Both then ran at the earliest opportunity for escape, hiking across the desert in the blistering afternoon Sun. The girl had to use a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from the boy's leg, otherwise he would continue to leave a bloody trail in the sand for anyone to find.

Peeta had interrupted at this point, curious to know if the girl was strong enough to tie a tourniquet. Katniss, feeling the need to prove herself, demonstrated on his own leg, resulting in a few expletives from the Prince until she not so hastily removed it.

Suffice to say, he did not doubt her words again.

She led the girl and boy further into the desert with her words, where they stumbled upon a chasm left by a civilisation of centuries old, and had stumbled down to seek shelter from the unforgiving Sun. It was at this point that Katniss had decided to pause her story for the night.

Both Katniss and the Prince had settled into either side of the bed after that. It had become an unspoken acceptance between them that Peeta would share the bed with her, and together they would catch a few hours of rest every night, with the reassurance that they were both there should anything happen. He seemed for the moment to have put her execution on hold, although Katniss knew she had not by any means stepped off the thin ice yet.

Only the dying embers of the fireplace lit the room, casting dancing shadows across their faces. Katniss noticed the firelight only made Peeta's blue eyes more striking in the near darkness.

Both stared at the other across the small expanse of bedding left between them, just taking in each other's features. Katniss stared at the freckles spackled across his nose, and the way the warm orange glow in the room picked up every golden eyelash. She wondered how they did not become tangled when he blinked.

She thought she had been caught staring too intently when his hushed voice (they always took to speaking in whispers at this point in the evening so as not to disturb the peaceful ether surrounding them) invaded her thoughts.

"She's a lot like you."

"Who is?"

"The girl in the story. You have the same hair, same build...she even sounds as stubborn as you." She could tell Peeta was trying to suppress a smile at his last comment.

Not wanting to give her game away too soon and lose his interest in the story, Katniss tried to dispel his theories. "She has her talent with the bow and arrow though. I can hardly lay claim to that."

"I guess." She watched as Peeta seemed to leave her momentarily to a place deep in his own thoughts. "I don't know who the boy is though..."

Katniss was surprised by his remark. Of either character, she was sure she could not have made it any clearer who she based the boy on. "Are you sure you don't have any idea?"

With a pained look, he replied "Not anymore..."

xXx

They awoke the next morning, a knotting of sheets and limbs. Katniss had never felt so surrounded by comforting warmth; but more than that, she realised she had slept through an entire night with no nightmares. The birdsong outside the window mixed with the intensity of the sunlight flooding the bedchamber told her she had slept way past dawn.

It was the comforting thrum of his heartbeat that made her aware she had not woken up alone.

As her senses rushed back to her, she became more aware of their position together. Her right arm and leg were draped intimately across his body, her calf trapped between his strong thighs. His muscular arm snaked underneath her, enclosing her to his side, his hand tangled securely in her braid. She could feel the warmth of his steady breath as it tickled the top of her hair.

Although her body tensed at the realisation of their positions, she still had never felt so comfortable as she did lying with him. The thought settled uneasily in her stomach, making her breath hitch suddenly.

Sensing this, Peeta's hand stilled its movements in her hair. She noticed his heartbeat speed up beneath her ear, and all at once both sprung apart from each other to the edges of the bed, wrapping the sheets tightly around them. But Katniss had only bunched the satin sheet tightly around her stomach; she had not yet realised that her vest top has ridden down at some point in the night, and was at that point dangerously low, revealing far more cleavage than she was privee to. Peeta's eyes were stuck on her as if transfixed, his eyes glazing over as his hands fisted the sheets around him. As she followed his gaze, she realised her exhibition and quickly moved to cover herself.

"I'm sorry, I didn – "

"How did you – "

Both spoke at once, their desperate attempts to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation failing miserably. A small smile from her, and a shy laugh from him calmed their nerves somewhat. The sight of his unruly mop of blond waves atop his head relaxed her further.

Peeta showed his courtesy to her. "Sorry. Please. You first."

"I was going to ask how well you slept." She thought she already knew the answer, seeing as though he had stayed the entire night, and had managed to sleep without the influence of drugs to do so.

"Oh...well, I think. Hmm." He looked momentarily confused before he continued. "And you?"

"Yes, very well. Erm...no nightmares, I think."

"Yes, me neither." Understanding seemed to dawn on them both at the same moment as they stared at the other.

In the security of each other's arms it seemed that both slept far more soundly than they had in years.

xXx

With the Prince once again gone, Katniss was left to ponder everything that had occurred, especially regarding the events of that morning, and Peeta's general erratic behaviour. Words of advice from a lifetime ago drifted from her memory...

_Get him to like you._

And the words began to make a new kind of sense to her. Not just to gain his trust; no, Haymitch had meant so much more. He wanted her to attract Peeta, to get him to _like _her like her. Which would be fine in theory, but this was Katniss, and she really had very little idea as to what that entailed. There were moments where her instincts had told her he _was _attracted to her, (as she tried to ignore her own growing attraction to him) and in those moments she had seen a side of the tender Prince from her younger years. A gentleness, a caring side for her wellbeing. The problem was, she would never be able to work out what she had done to attract him in those moments in time.

Storytelling, she could do. Fighting back, absolutely. But seduction? She was in over her head.

With a resigned sigh, she knew there was only one person she could go to, no matter how much she really did not want to resort to it.

Steeling her resolve, she grabbed her shoes and headed for the stables.


	7. Of sunsets and swords

Thank you all so much for your patience. Holidays, plus the deadline for Fandom4LLS delayed this story a bit. But I'm getting back on track for you lovely people. Here's an especially enticing chapter for you all to enjoy! **And if you haven't donated yet, I've written a rather long mature rated one-shot about Magician! Peeta called 'Magic Mellark'. See my other works for a preview. For a small donation, you get to read that and a whole load of other amazing looking stories. It's for a great cause :)**

Those that have been so wonderful as to leave reviews, just know they really make my day!

If you're thinking of writing yourself, or might in the future, my beta is outstanding. This would not be the quality it is without her. You'll know her as **eatsnightlockforbreakfast** on tumblr.

Finally, so much thanks to Ro Nordmann for the amazing banner below.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters etc belong to Suzanne Collins. Not me. I get no profit from this work (but if anyone wants to make me some cake...)

The slagheap. One in every district. Of course, every district had their own names for them; Katniss only knew District Twelve's. But they were all known for the same purpose; a place to sneak off to for a moment of debauchery. Wives spending time with men who were definitely not their husbands. Unmarried, perhaps even underage, girls who were either very sexual or very cunning in their intentions to bed men. From honeyed words to honey traps, the slagheap had seen it all.

You did not need to set foot within the slagheap to know what occurred within its chainlinked walls. Although Katniss herself had never been within the slagheap of District Twelve, she had passed it many a time, and had heard the wide variety of noises coming from within. Some shocked her, most appalled her, a small few left her curious and questioning late into the night.

The slagheap was not the only fountain for lustful knowledge. Katniss had spent enough time in school hearing the quiet whispers from her fellow peers to know the basics of sex. She had tried to forget the overheard mutterings of strange positions, climbing peaks, and unconventional uses of mouths and tongues. To her, none of it related to hunting. So none of it was relevant.

And yet, here she was, with Johanna Mason, standing in the stables being taught how to do such things in painful detail. She had detached sex from her life as unimportant, but the more she stood and listened to Jo, the more she could relate it to hunting. In that moment she felt like an animal being preyed on; frozen, unsure of whether to remain still or to turn and run. She wondered if she could cool her crimson face by leaning over the furnace in the corner of the room.

"...if you do that, trust me, he'll be mewing like a kitten."

" – Jo..."

"...and then while you're doing that, put your hand – "

"JOHANNA!" Thank god she finally had the girl's attention. Perhaps she could finally bring an end to this torture. "I don't need to know this." But the girl in front of her squinted at her in contemplation, only momentarily fazed by her outburst.

"And change what you wear. I bet you practically chain yourself up in a onesie every night, you just scream comfort and practicality."

"What's wrong with that?!"

"Nothing at all, but no men want to sleep with it."

Katniss could smack herself for how stupid she had been, thinking it was a good idea to come to the stables, that a miraculous solution to her problems lay within. All she had found was an opportunity to commit murder, if she had her way with this loose lipped blacksmith. "Look, I came here because you said you could give me advice. I didn't come here for your lurid descriptions of...of..."

"Then why are you here, brainless? I don't have the time to play babysitter for the day you know."

Katniss decided to ignore her, and rolled her eyes in frustration. "Look, you know I've been telling him stories at night?"

Johanna simply nodded, quirking an eyebrow as a sign for her to continue.

"Well, so far I've used adventure, suspense, love even. And now, I want to make it a little more...interesting..."

"You mean it's been boring before?"

Jo was smirking at her. Actually smirking. Katniss knew she understood what she was trying to say, but she obviously relished the opportunity to make her feel uncomfortable. Jo wanted her to spell it out. She wanted to rip that smirk off her soot covered face.

"Sex! I want to include sex, OK? There! Do you understand now?"

"Oh honey, I understood all along. Nothing like watching a virgin getting all hot and bothered. You'll learn that lesson one day if you're lucky." The pixie haired brunette threw her a wink that had Katniss scowling a storm.

"Look, you don't need to make me – "

"Actually, yes, I do." Jo cut her off with such sudden seriousness, the scowl was momentarily wiped off her face. "If you can't even talk about it with me, what makes you think you'll be able to go waltzing into that bedroom tonight and say it to him? Because honey, men like some kinky shit, but awkwardly stuttering sex talk ain't one of them."

Katniss had to swallow her pride. The girl rubbed her like poison ivy, but she knew she had a point. What made her think she could do this? "Look, you're right. Thanks but I'm just gonna –"

A surprisingly tight grip held her left arm and prevented her swift escape.

"Now hold on, I didn't say you couldn't do it. Hell, I don't think you realise the potential you have. You've got this" she circled her palm in front of Katniss's face "innocent purity about you that men would eat up with a spoon. With a bit of guidance from me, you'll have him eating straight out of your hand...or maybe somewhere else..."

"Nobody needs to be eating anything Jo! Ugh! Would you just help me try to add a bit of spice into my story please?"

"I already said I would." She gestured for Katniss to follow her into a room attached to the stables, past the furnace with dying embers all shades of orange and red. In it she observed an unfinished sword poking out from the softly licking flames that remained. The still present glow of the metal in the blade reminded her of the soft muted orange in a sunset.

Looking around the room, she regarded the vast display of weapons hanging around them. A plethora of artistic creations, no doubt from Johanna's own hands. Katniss absentmindedly picked up a short throwing knife to examine in more detail. The handle was solid and ergonomically crafted to fit perfectly in the bearer's hands. The blade was polished and sharpened to perfection. Katniss could appreciate the craftsmanship that went into such a weapon. She imagined the animals she could hunt back home with such a solid blade; the snares she could easily create using it. It was everything beauty and danger could be. It reminded her of the girl in front of her.

She didn't notice the long stare being sent her way until the girl's voice broke her thoughts.

"Huh. Do I actually have a fighter in my midst?" Katniss remained silent. Let her think what she liked. She had had enough teasing for one day.

"I'm not judging you know. If anything, it's good to finally have someone that knows how to handle these things. Since I got moved from weaponry, nobody really uses this place anymore. Too chicken shit." The trace of hurt in her voice was nearly missed by Katniss. "Anyway, you don't need to answer me. I can tell by the way you look at that thing; unlike all the other bimbos that walk around here, you've clearly held a weapon in your grasp before. Plus, you're looking at it like you're picturing sinking it into the flesh of some animal... or someone." She put the knife down. After all, she didn't want to put the wrong message across to this madwoman, and find herself in close hand to hand combat. "So...which one of these is your weapon of choice?" Jo gestured around the room at the rest of the objects on display.

Katniss looked around slowly, finally casting her eye on her familiar hunting friends in a far corner, next to a set of targets.

Jo had not missed her glance. But she didn't give her away. Like Katniss, she seemed all too aware of the dangers of ears within the walls, and the need to keep such things a closely guarded secret. "Tell you what girlie...if you can pick out mine, I'll help you with your little erotica problem. How's that?"

Katniss wandered around the room slowly, trying to think like the cunning girl she had come to know well in such a short space of time. In regards to weaponry, she was sure Jo thought like her. In such a dangerous place, where fighting practise needed to be kept up but kept secret, where would she hide her weapons?

Somewhere close. Somewhere... in plain sight.

But unlike Katniss, who could only practise on occasion, Jo was here all the time. She would be handling her weapon on a daily basis, of that Katniss was certain. So she knew to look for something with a slightly duller edge, something clearly used.

And unlike Katniss, who would take pride in her weapon and keep it well looked after, she knew that would be too much of a giveaway for Jo. As a blacksmith, most would expect her weapon of choice to be elaborate and intricate, sharp as a shark's tooth, and of a high quantity of numbers to choose from.

She knew at once what kind of a weapon she was looking for. And her eyes fell to it as if they were drawn by rope.

Surrounded by lines and lines of ornate daggers and swords, intricately carved spear handles and tips, there it lay. Plain. Solitary. Tarnished.

An axe. A carpenter amongst its silver friends. Katniss caressed its handle gently with her hand, turned towards the girl in the room with her, who gave a curt nod in response. And then she witnessed the first truly warm smile to grace her face.

Katniss took the opportunity to pay her a compliment. "These are really good you know. Did you make them all?"

"Yeah. Not that I get appreciation from anyone else around here." Jo gave her a thoughtful look. "You know, if you like my work, you should check out the lower levels of the Palace. That's where a lot of my more 'up to date' craftmanship is. They're really making use of my talents these days you know." She scoffed to herself.

"Anyway. Let's get this over with. So what are we talking about here with the characters? Girl and boy, girl and girl...ooh, girl, girl and boy? Men love that kind of fantasy."

"Ugh, Jo, no. Just girl and boy. Please, I don't have a lot of time here..." So much for helping her.

"OK, OK. So what's the setting?"

"A cavern. They're in a cavern in the desert."

"Ha! Love the symbolism. They're in a cavern, he wants to be in her..." Jo notices the blank expression focused on her. "Ugh. Never mind. What sorts of things do you want to include?"

"I don't know – I just...want to help him build trust with me. And somehow he's shown these flashes of himself, and I don't know what it is I did to get him to do it. I just feel like this might help to get him back, I can't explain it. It's like an instinct."

"Yeah, your 'instinct' is telling you..." She gave her a look pregnant with meaning. But Katniss had lost all patience with the girl's innuendo.

"Look – the best thing is to stick to what you know. You said so yourself; whatever you're doing, it's clearly been working...somehow. Take your time, keep him in suspense. You know how to do that already. So use those storytelling skills to tease him. Start small...with a kiss, or describing a gentle caress or some fluffy shit like that. And go slow. Understand?"

"But...don't I need to be more obvious?"

"Trust me. He's a guy...he'll get the gist. And if all else fails, use that mouth for the way it's meant to be used." With a wink and a swift turn on her heel, Jo failed to notice Katniss take a firm hold of that knife again.

"Now, pick up your weapon. A little practise won't do you any harm. And I can tell you're just itching to hit a few things."

xXx

Finnick had caught her on her way from her time with Jo in the stables, wearing a serious expression she had not seen on him before.

"Listen, the advice Jo's given you. Just be careful."

Katniss frowned. "You think I should ignore everything she said?"

"No – I'm not saying that. You're following your instincts. So far, they've worked well in your favour." She watched him shift on the heels of his feet while he thought. "It's just, try to remember back to when you first got here. He trusted nobody. Especially women."

"You don't need to remind me of that Finnick. What's your point?"

"Why you? What made you different?"

She stared at a blue thread coming loose from one of his shirt buttons as she contemplated it. "I don't know. That's what I've been trying to figure out."

"There must be something. Why were you different to the rest before do you think?"

She thought back, to her first day at the palace, her first meeting with Peeta. When he came to her chamber, his reasons for being there...

"I wasn't trying. He said I wasn't over the top, I didn't dress to impress him."

Finnick nodded. "Keep it in mind. You've been good for him so far. I trust your decisions; after all, you're the one alone with him at nights. Only you can know what's the best step to take. But just remember; he doesn't know who to trust. The last thing he needs is more lies. If you start doing things for the wrong reasons...I don't know if it will help you. He needs the real. He wants to know it's real."

xXx

If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have been showered in an angry cascade of lace and silk; a rainbow of bras and garter belts for every taste.

The garments were ridiculous. Surely the point of lingerie was to entice someone. How could anyone look at all appealing in any of these? She was sure she'd have better luck evoking desire, and covering herself, by wrapping some ribbons around her.

Unfortunately, she had made the mistake of trying a set on for herself. A fiery red lace with uncomfortable diamantes stuck on every possible scrap of the material. The lower half of the set was barely a triangle the size of her palm, with some sort of string that stretched around the back and between her legs. The cups of the bra did not even reach halfway up her breasts. The whole outfit was ludicrous.

Each and every garment Katniss pulled from the drawer seemed to increase in its absurdity. Completely see through mesh, barely there cups, built in holes that apparently were designed to be there. She understood her own desire for clothing was based on pure practicality, but even she thought she could at least understand the lure of fashion for some. But this...

She had returned to her room earlier to find a letter from Prim, telling her how much she missed her. Her father had included his own note too, telling her that he had received word from the palace that he no longer needed to travel to find tributes. He was safe. He wanted her to return home so she could be too.

Prim, surprisingly, did not agree with his statement. In a quickly scratched paragraph at the end of her note, she had clearly sneaked a moment to add the post script to the end of her letter before her father had seen.

'You must stay, no matter what father says. Peeta needs you still, and the country needs Peeta. Keep doing what you're doing, I just know you can bring him back.'

Frustrated at herself even contemplating Johanna's advice, and letting Prim's words almost carry her away, she scooped up the scattered lace garters and hosiery and unceremoniously dumped them back in the drawer, stuffing any loose straps inside before slamming it shut. Hopefully for good.

She wouldn't have cared if wearing them would have bestowed her with a power to turn back time. She refused to be one of those Capitol girls.

Instead, she retrieved a simple oyster coloured camisole from the drawer above, with matching lace edged shorts. They were far shorter than anything she had yet worn for bedclothing, the hem resting at the edge of the upper thigh, but the fire burning steadily in the fireplace had made the room far warmer than usual, and she knew she could not wear the longer length shorts she had been getting away with beforehand that rested just above the knee. At least she would still feel covered.

The room was stifling, and she silently cursed the person that lit the fireplace on such a balmy night. Perhaps they anticipated a dip in the temperature. Whatever the reason, the cold shower was beckoning her.

She left her silk camisole set resting on her pillow, before stripping off her clothing and stepping under the soothing coolness of the water. The temperature as it hit her skin alongside the scents of the floral body washes in the room, reminded her of times long ago, when she would stand in the rain in her meadow, letting the droplets soak her to the bone just to feel alive. If she shut her eyes and concentrated enough, she could feel herself transported back there.

The noise of the heavy wooden door to the bedroom brought her back to the present.

She stepped out of the shower, and wrapped one of the large white cotton towels around her as she slowly returned to the bedroom.

Peeta. He wasn't early, surely? No. She realised she must have lost track of time under the spray of the shower head; the change in light outside and her pruned up fingers spoke of how long she had been in there.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to...do you want me to come back?" His cheeks were pink, and his eyes a slightly darker blue than she was used to seeing.

"No...it's OK. Just give me a few moments, if that's OK?"

He nodded his head, staring at her towel wrapped figure slightly wide eyed for a few moments before her small amused smile let him know she wanted him to turn around. He proceeded to glance around the room, to try and place his attention on anything but her. She decided that she could get away with putting her hair in a braid and leaving it to dry, rather than spending extra time towel drying it first.

While facing the mirror to finish putting her hair in a braid, she asked "Can you pass me my nightclothes over there please?"

She began to take note of how long he had been silent just as he began to speak. "Are these...erm...them?" His voice cracked at the end, and she detected a note of discomfort and confusion in his words, far more than she was expecting from him. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she nearly dropped her towel in mortification.

Her face was far redder than the diamante encrusted red lace triangle he was holding up on his forefinger. After trying them on she had abandoned them on the floor in disgust, where they had since lay forgotten. Of course, Peeta had chosen to stand in the area of the room nearest to them. And of course he had noticed them right as she had asked for her nightclothes.

Well shit.

"No...they're not – I mean..."

Words. There were no words.

She quickly darted across to him and snatched them from his finger, trying not to look at the way he swallowed or the way he was looking at her while she grabbed the bra that he held loosely in his other hand. Turning on her heel, she stuffed the offending items in the nearest drawer to get them out of sight as soon as possible. Perhaps if she never looked at him again, she could pretend the whole thing had never happened.

She had continued to braid her hair more furiously than before, when a hand came into her field of vision between herself and her reflection, holding her silk nightwear. She swiftly snatched them from him.

Or perhaps she could convince Johanna to swiftly bring an end to her misery with her axe. Surely she'd jump at the chance. Yes, that was clearly the better option.

She retreated to the bathroom under the pretence of changing, and relished in the opportunity to hide. But she knew she could not stay there forever, and it was the smell of food that had Katniss appearing from her hidey hole.

"I ordered some cheese buns, I thought you might want some." Good. Peeta was acting normal. It was exactly what she needed. Her hand reached for the dainty china plate he held out to her.

"Thanks."

They both made a move to sit at the edge of the bed. Katniss found herself uncomfortably, yet delectably, close to him as she ate. The first bite of the cheese bun had her moaning in appreciation, and Peeta shifted awkwardly on the bed as she felt some of the oil run down her chin. She caught most of it with her tongue; a small amount dripped onto her bare thigh. When she had finished the bun, she began to lick her fingers clean, oblivious of the effect she was having on her companion.

She only noticed how he was looking at her when she reached her fourth finger.

The air was different between them that night. Dynamics had shifted. Katniss had written off her plans for the evening after the lingerie fiasco, more than willing to have nothing more to do with Jo or her stupid advice. But it was happening again. That thing she kept noticing between them, a gleam in his eyes that told of a million intense thoughts. It gave her story the spark needed to set it in motion again.

"Do you remember where we left off in the tale?"

Peeta's eyes drifted their attention from her lips then to rest on her silver irises. "Erm..." Katniss bit her lip to stop the smirk that was threatening to grace her face as she waited for his thoughts to unjumble. There was something powerful in the hold she had over him in that moment. "Sorry...they were in the desert. He got injured, I think."

"Yes, he was. Despite her medical help, he was sure he would die there. So he told her how much she meant to him while he had the chance, how long he had loved her, and watched her from afar."

The mattress dipped behind her as he leaned on his arm behind her back, drawing himself closer to her.

"The girl was never good with words, so she tried to tell him with her actions. She leaned forward and joined her lips to his. But she pulled away far too quickly for him to respond."

His face was inches away from hers. Was the firelight brighter than usual? Did the clock on the mantle always tick so loudly?

"He placed his hand in her hair, drew her to him again..." There was slight tug on her braid. She looked down to find he had the end of her hair clasped in his hand lightly, with a look of wonder on his face.

" – and kissed her with a passion that..."

The cricket song outside their window floated in like a lover's serenade. He hadn't stopped looking at her.

She swallowed thickly. "I-it was her first kiss. She still did not know how she felt about him yet..." His thumb and forefinger had moved across to rub the lace of her camisole strap between them.

When had her breathing sped up so? The windows were wide open, so why was there no air?

"...But she – she felt a kind of hunger inside her..." His knuckles grazed the skin of her collar bone, which sent goosebumps shooting across her flesh.

The embers from the fire cast an ethereal glow around them, enveloping them in its warm caress.

"...a hunger that..." Piercing blue eyes continued to stare at her.

It was intoxicating.

"...s-she hadn't felt..."

Distracting.

"...she felt – "

Dangerous.

The air felt thicker and warmer as it entered her lungs, and as his hand moved up to tuck a whisper of hair behind her ear, she realised she had very little grasp on what she had even said to him for the past few minutes. How was he doing this? She was the one who had asked Jo for advice, not him. She wasn't in control of this situation at all. Or herself for that matter. She had felt like the ocean waves, unstoppable to anything in its path. But the moon controls the tides, and here Peeta had some kind of gravitational power over her. And in this moment he was more dangerous to her than he had ever been.

It had to stop. She had to stop. If she just pushed herself to continue with the story, to move away from the lover's scene; if she could just keep going...

"S – so they..."

And then his hand moved down to cover both of hers in her lap. She felt him leaning in close to her, his breath ghosting over her neck, the warmth of his stare on her face, willing her to look at him. But all she could do was look at his hand, large yet gentle as it engulfed both of hers. Slowly, and of its own accord, her thumb traced the back of it, running along his fingers, and circling his ring. A golden circuit that matched her own perfectly. The glint of the precious metal had her spellbound.

Why was it dangerous exactly? How was it wrong? They were married after all.

His palm moved to lift her chin up slowly to look at him. His scent was intoxicating; a mix of cinnamon and sandalwood, and she wondered faintly if he had always given off that delicious scent.

His thumb grazed her lower lip then, sending shocks down her spine to settle in her lower stomach. Her eyelids fluttered closed, the intense blue of his irises burned onto her retinas. She could still see his eyes as she felt him draw his face to hers.

The first brush of his lips to hers reminded her of the dandelions she used to blow as a child, when she took them too close to her mouth. Feathery light in its softness, with the promise of a wish being granted. All too soon, he pulled away and stared at her, with turquoise eyes that asked if what he just did was OK.

In response, she drew her hands to his head and pulled his lips back to hers. She felt both of his hands frame either side of her face. It echoed their first kiss as man and wife. It also had the same effect as his first kiss had; of making her forget her own name.

Slowly, he guided her back to a lying position on the bed, hovering over her, while their lips did not break their connection once.

Katniss tried to remember her conversation with Jo earlier that morning. What had she said about kissing? Not very much it seemed. There was a mention of tongues, although truthfully Jo had been leaving her detailed descriptions to far less useful techniques.

She decided to follow Peeta's lead, do as he did. When he began entwining his fingers in her hair, she let her hand slip to the back of his head. He pulled her face closer to his, causing more pressure between their lips. It made her tug at his hair to keep him close. The growl he released when she did had her feeling she was definitely doing something right.

Note to self...tug on his hair.

When he ran his tongue along her lips once, twice, she couldn't discern what he seemed to be asking for. While he seemed to hover then at her mouth, she hesitantly copied his action, tracing her tongue along the crease of his lips. He surprised her when his mouth opened, and he sucked on her tongue. She observed the way his tongue caressed hers, how he let it glide around her mouth. The sensation made her whole mouth tingle in a delicious way.

Then he stopped, remained still, and she realised with a smile against his mouth that he was silently wishing her to copy. He was guiding her, holding back so he could patiently teach her. She followed his movements, stroking his tongue with hers. The growl from his throat as his tongue suddenly springing to life with hers, and the way his hand gripped her hair tighter, had her moaning into his mouth.

She never could have envisioned a kiss would make her dizzy.

With a last gentle caress at the side of her mouth that sent sparks to her toes, he broke his head away from hers and guided her hands up above her head. Slowly, ever too slowly for her, he followed their path back down with his lips, kissing at her wrists, then slowly lower; her forearm, the joint of her elbow.

When his lips finally hovered above hers again, she pushed hers up to meet him. When their tongues brushed, it felt like returning home. Her hands wanted to travel to the back of his head and lock him in place so he would not depart again, but his own held hers firmly in place. She became conscious of how much their position mirrored the first night they spent together in this room. It made her see how far they had come.

His lips moved to find every part of her neck. Her pulse point, the hollow of her throat. When he kissed a particular point behind her ear, she did not recognise the noise that escaped her lips.

At some point, he had settled between her legs, and hers were wrapped around his thighs. An ache had developed below her stomach, and she had only just noticed she was bucking herself against him to relieve the tension there.

The whispers in school hallways were enough for her to recognise what she felt poking her thigh. And what it meant.

She was exciting him. No fancy lingerie, no strange Jo techniques. Just her.

The knowledge set her on fire.

His hands had already released hers and had found their way onto her hips, where they ran tenderly up her sides and had her arching into him again. Their erratic breathing intermingled. The sensations were too much and not enough.

She pushed on his shoulder and twisted her hips to turn them around so she could be on top of him. He looked up at her with a look of both lust and awe, his mouth hanging open as he panted for breath.

With her lack of experience, she could only follow her instincts. She began to rock on top of him, back and forth, back and forth.

Peeta threw his head back, his eyes firmly shut in ecstasy. Amongst the string of incoherent words to leave his mouth, she was able to pick up one phrase.

"Oh God..."

His hands still rested at her waist, where they had been before she turned them. Slowly, she guided one of his hands up to rest on her left breast.

He opened his eyes wide then, and kept his dark pupils locked on hers as he began to rub her nipple through the silk, eliciting a moan from them both.

How could she have ever thought this was wrong? It was exquisite. The lure of the slag heap began to make all kinds of sense to her.

Peeta sat up so he could reach her better, and she took the opportunity to latch her mouth onto his neck. His hips involuntarily thrusted up to meet hers at the sensation, releasing an animalistic whimper from her and him to moan her name -

"Katniss! –"

She froze. Her name on his lips was ambrosia in its exquisiteness. She had never heard it uttered in such a way before, with such gentleness, pride, and yearning. But it made her stop.

She had never heard it spoken that way because it had never fallen from his lips before. All this time he had never called her by her name once. The implications of it shocked and unnerved her, and woke her from the lustful sorcery she had been under.

How could she be so blinded? Of course it was wrong. She had known why it was wrong all along.

He had taken the lives of others. Perhaps not by his own hand, and arguably under the venom, but nonetheless, people had died because of him. How could she ever get past that? Yet here she was, her attraction to this man causing her to forget. It made him dangerous, she had just not realised why until now. She knew he had the power to burrow his way into her soul and take root there if she wasn't careful. If he hadn't already. And there was very rarely a way back for her when people did that.

She pushed herself off of him. "I'm sorry...I – I can't do this."

His pained expression cut her to her core. He understood what she meant. Why she could not do this. He knew what was stopping her.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me. I should never...you just...wait. Please. I won't touch you again. Just...Stay?"

He was right. It was wrong. But they were both equally to blame. She just had to take back some semblance of control over the situation. Keep her distance. She could do that.

"OK. I'll stay."

She moved herself to sit back on the edge of the bed, further away from him than before. He didn't seem to mind. Both found a spot somewhere on the carpet to stare at while they considered all that had just happened. "Isn't it strange...we're married, and yet I don't even know what your favourite colour is." Peeta ran a hand round the back of his neck and chuckled. "I mean, it's kind of something we should know about each other, don't you think?"

Katniss gave a small smile. He had a way of easing her mind. "Yes, I guess so."

"Mine's orange."

Katniss pulled a face at his choice. "You mean, like the fruit?"

"No, not really. Not harsh, but a softer colour. Like a sunset." Katniss was reminded of the sword in the furnace from the stables that morning. How beautiful its fiery pearlescence had seemed. "Do you have one?"

She had to think about the question. It wasn't as if she ever went around selecting rich silks for her clothing like so many of the Capitol citizens did. She never really had an opportunity to consider if she had a preference. But she supposed there was one colour that put her at ease whenever she saw it. Something she missed deep down since staying in the palace walls.

"Green. Dark green, like the forest." He closed his eyes as if picturing it.

"Good to know."

They took the next two hours taking turns asking and answering questions. Some of the ones he asked were so surprising and humorous, she could not help the laughter he evoked from her. It struck her that she could not remember a time her stomach had cramped from laughing so much. Slowly, the questions became more probing, more personal in some ways. He shared his favourite memory of his father, of painting in the palace gardens with him one hot summers eve. Katniss shared the story of how she managed to shrewdly haggle the local farmer into selling her a goat for her sister. She took the opportunity to ask the question that had been on her mind since even before she volunteered to marry him.

"Peeta...why aren't you King yet? Rye abdicated a long time ago, how come you haven't taken the throne?"

It didn't seem as if he would answer the question at first. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, before resting his elbows on his knees as he leant forward.

"It was too painful at first. After my dad...you know...I just couldn't face it. Rye abdicated for that reason. Well, that and he thought I'd somehow be better at the public speeches." A bitter laugh left his throat. "And then, I was going to wait until I was married to Glimmer." There seemed to be no sign of him losing his composure; he seemed surprisingly calm talking about such a painful subject.

"I looked up to my father a lot. He had such faith in me. I'm not sure I could ever live up to that." Katniss found herself inching closer to him on the bed as he spoke. He was a hurt boy again, and she could show him she was here for him. Distance be damned.

"The thing is... I know I need to. Panem needs a leader. Our advisors tell us of Snow's readying army every day. I'll need to lead Panem into battle. And soon." He sighed. "I just don't feel like I'm the one they need. Power changes a person, and already I'm not the person I was when my dad was here. I'm not the golden boy everyone thinks I am. Maybe it's my fault, maybe not. But if I'm going to rule – I want to be me." He gave her a sideways glance. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah."

She wasn't sure what to say next. His hand, which had found its way back to resting on top of her own in an altogether more innocent gesture, began to trace lazy circles with his thumb onto the back of hers. It was a welcome peace offering. She squeezed back.

"So, what happens next with the story?"

He was clearly trying to alleviate the solemness that had settled on the room, by helping her continue the story where they left off. Which was fine with her.

"Well, with a lack of medication, his wound becomes infected, and he gets blood poisoning. Slowly, despite her best attempts to help cure him, he gets worse. His temperature rises, and he begins to hallucinate." Peeta's thumb stopped its movement on her hand. She knew the story had taken a turn that made him uncomfortable. But her instincts told her that she needed to keep on the path she had chosen to take. For his sake. She knew she was close to getting him back to Panem.

Therefore, even though he remained silent and did not prompt her to carry on, she continued.

"At one point, because of the dangerous situation they found themselves in, his hallucinations became so violent, he began to see everything she did to help nurse him as an attempt to kill him. When she refastened his tourniquet, he thought she was trying to torture him with the device. Although she tried her best to clean the wound with the little supplies they had, he thought she was cutting his wound wider open. And in the end, the hallucinations became so bad..." she glanced at him then, and noticed he had closed his eyes tightly and his hands had begun to shake.

"Became so bad?" He was willing her on.

The next words left Katniss's throat in a whisper. "He...nearly strangles her."

Peeta completely released her hand then, and stood to walk over to the window. The silence stretched over them for an age before he spoke again. "Did he kill her?"

His back was to her, but she could see from the way his shoulders sagged that the whole thing pained him to face. But he was facing it. She had to give him that.

"No. No, she stayed calm. She understood he wasn't himself, and her love gave her the faith to know that if she did not give up on him, he would realise the mistake and let her go."

"And did he?" Her heart almost melted at the innocence of his voice. It was as if she were speaking to the boy under the apple tree again. Only, so much had happened to them both since then.

"He did. And with her patience and care, the fever broke, and he came back to her." Peeta turned to her then, running a hand through his now unruly locks. The candlelight in the room only heightened the stormy look in his eyes as he stared at her. "Her love brought him back to her Peeta. He came back."

"But..."

"But?"

His shoulders slumped as he took the moments he needed to form his question. "But, could she forgive him for that?"

The double meaning was not lost on Katniss. She had started this allegory, after all. But how could she answer him, when she barely knew herself? People told her she was good with stories, but she had never been good with her own words.

Why did she frequently need to remind herself of his dark deeds? How could she feel as though there were two of her always struggling for dominance with him; the one part of her that screamed at her to end this nonsense, that there was no hope to save him. And a twelve year old voice, that wanted to forgive him so much.

The look on his face was so much like his young self under the tree, that she could smell the apples, feel the rain on her face, the cold wind brushing her neck. And she let that twelve year old self answer for her.

"Yes." Her whispered answer was not lost on him. His resulting surprised expression traversed the distance between them like a spark from the flames.

"But...why?"

The fireplace came back to life with a sudden renewed energy in the grate, its embers danced like fireflies up the chimney.

"Because...when you care for someone enough...I think you find a way to forgive anything."

Their shared memory under the apple tree was like an ice cube in a hot desert night in its fleeting nature. It froze time around them momentarily. It thawed. Finally, it melted away. And they found themselves again back in the palace, engulfed in their situation, where an uncertain path lay ahead of them.

Peeta's croaked voice was the first to break the silence in the candle lit room.

"But, how can he forgive himself?"


	8. Down the rabbit hole

I am as always completely overwhelmed by the love I get in all your reviews. It means so much to know people are liking it so far.)

Here's the one you've all been waiting for! Enjoy! (would love to know what you all think at the end of the chapter too)

Huge thanks to my lovely beta eatsnightlockforbreakfast, who without which I would not have had the confidence to post this today, and may have written this chapter forever.

Catch me on tumblr as Prisspanem. I sometimes post sneak peaks of future chapters.

Banner by Ro Nordmann. Find us all on tumblr.

_She was on the stage again. Dragged by the Palace guards, calling for someone to fetch Peeta. She was trying to tell them it was a mistake, he wouldn't do this, he'd changed._

_She was told he had changed. He had changed his mind...about her. He had lost interest in her stories. He wanted her dead._

_The horrifying rope around her neck nearly choked her before it was time. It scratched and dug into her skin like rose thorns. She found herself choking on the sickening scent of roses. They were in a rose garden._

_Suddenly, Katniss was no longer the one on the stage, but Prim. She struggled to reach her, but in vain. She couldn't move; the arms holding her down belonged to every woman that went before her. They clawed at her flesh, their grotesque smiles like gashes on their faces as they ripped chunks out of her and lapped at the fiery red liquid that poured forth. It mingled with the roses, making her gag._

_And Prim was still on stage, screaming her name. Terrified, right up to the end. Right up to the point the noose was fastened, and the lever pulled. She watched her sister's body as it dangled from the rope, little more than a daisy chain in the wind._

_The hangman transformed, mutated. A rose was cradled in his lapel, once white, but stained red with Prim's blood. He became Snow._

Katniss awoke locked in a silent scream that tried to form Prim's name. She could see the bedroom surrounding her, knew where she was. But she was trapped in a repugnant place between reality and her nightmares. Paralysed. The scene still played out in front of her, ebbed and flowed around her like a winter's tide even as she took in the fireplace and the four post wooden columns of the bed. She watched as Snow cut through the crowds in his way with such wild ferocity, until he reached a tree in the distance. An apple tree.

The silhouette against the warm orange sunset sky. A boy. Holding bread. The glint of Snow's heavy blade raised above his head as it caught the setting Sun.

"Peeta!"

Her voice returned, and the dream receded like the sea at the end of a storm. Not real. She was back in her bedroom alone. Real.

She could breathe.

She could move again.

She had to get out of there.

xXx

Peeta had already left by the time Katniss had awoken from her nightmare. The disappointment and loneliness she felt at the discovery only added to her sense of claustrophobia.

After leaving her room, she had managed to give her guards the slip. The dark hallways of the servants' quarters twisted like a labyrinth, and she only needed to turn down three different corridors to be certain the guards had lost her scent. Of course, she would not admit that she may have lost herself too. The kitchens and food storage rooms had been passed a while ago, and the deeper she moved down the hallways, the less people she encountered. Doors, which had largely filled either side of her at one point, disappeared along with any servant staff. Paint chipped off the walls, revealing the ageing plaster underneath. With the absence of regular foot traffic, the grey slate stone floors transformed from well worn tiles made glossy with regular footfall, to a cold dusty dullness. The whole area seemed useless, unused, abandoned.

Katniss had almost decided to retrace her steps, and head back to the kitchens. But the curiosity was too much for her; surely the hallway led to something, no matter how unused? So she continued on her quest, letting it temporarily distract her from the terrors left from the night before. But all too soon she found herself at the end of the hallway, staring at a set of nondescript stairs that seemed to spiral downwards to a lower level. Disappointment at having found an end to her journey soon gave way to confusion. As far as she knew, the servant quarters were located in the basement levels of the Palace grounds. So how was there a staircase here?

It had no windows in its stone walls, and no lights to guide the way. Past the few stairs she could see in the corkscrew bend, lay utter darkness ready to envelop all who entered it.

A story from her old childhood came to her mind in that moment; one that she vaguely remembered her mother reading to her shortly before she died. Of a young girl who followed a rabbit down a rabbit hole, and found herself in a dream world full of potions, ticking clocks, and a Mad Queen that wanted her head. The whole tale seemed too close for her comfort. With a last glance behind her, she furtively placed her foot on the first step.

Right. Let's follow the white rabbit then.

With no light, Katniss could only feel her way around the curling staircase. She focused on the chalky rough stone beneath her fingers; counted the steps.

25...26.

The darkness encased her with its cold touch, filled her eyes, clawed at her in its possessiveness. The hardness of it entered her bones.

61...

She had always hated the dark. The hunter in her became far too aware. Too alert to every noise.

89...

But here, it wasn't the dark that had her pulse racing and her hands clammy. It was the feeling that whatever she found at the end of her descent, it would not be good.

...125.

Stairs gave way to solid ground again. The faint glow of a lantern down the hallway was a welcome sight to her. Until she took in what the lantern cast its light on.

A door. It stood out in its surroundings. The newness of the carved wood frame contrasted with the ancient stone bricks encasing it. The steel locks looked not a day old, the handle ostentatiously ornate for such a setting.

The hallway was wide enough to fit two people side by side, and if Katniss tried she was sure she could just about touch each wall with her arms stretched out. But the closer she came to the door, the more enclosed she felt.

The steel handle was ice in her hand. Bracing herself for what lay beyond, she took a deep calming breath before twisting it around.

_Locked. Great, so what now?_

"Lost are we, sweetheart?" The sudden intrusion of sound had her hand rattle the steel handle as she twisted around suddenly. A surly looking Haymitch stood in front of her. Fantastic. Clearly by the way he was looking at her, he had been summoned by tweedle dum and tweedle dummer.

As if on cue, her two guards appeared from the stairwell behind him.

_Wonderful._

"You had your chaperones worried. You know, when you play hide and seek, generally it's polite to stick to one area for your hiding place."

"Is that code word for 'I shouldn't be down here' Haymitch?"

"No, it's code word for I don't appreciate being fetched every time you decide to do a disappearing act. Ain't nothing to see down here anyway. That's just a storage closet. Full of little more than towels and pencils and such."

"Seems like a really inconvenient place for a storage closet." Her eyes portrayed the underlying message; she saw right through him. But she also knew he wasn't about to just come out and tell her what was behind that door. In his attempt to hide the truth, his answer revealed everything. Something secret lay on the other side of the wood panel to them.

"Look, whatever's down here ain't your concern. You ain't doing yourself any favours by being down here neither. Come on, you have more mail waiting for you anyway from that sister of yours."

Just as Haymitch and the two guards began to gesture for her to return upstairs, her ears picked up the sound of a key being fitted in the lock of the door. She watched from the corner of her eye as the person on the other side struggled to balance a pile of used bedsheets in their arms.

Bedsheets? _Used_ bedsheets?

The element of surprise had always been her secret weapon. She had developed the skill from her hunting in the woods with her father. So as the burly woman moved turned to shut the door, a slight nudge from Katniss was all that was needed to send the laundry toppling over everywhere. In the confusion that followed, she was able to slip through the opening before anyone could stop her.

Her eyes had to adjust to the almost clinical light that struck her. From what she could immediately gather, she was in a chamber. A wide space made of two levels. She found herself standing on the level above; a wide metal grating made a floor that spanned the entire distance and allowed her to look down into the chamber below. At the other end of the wide space she could just make out a locked set of metal spiralling stairs that led downwards.

The purpose of it at first confounded her. From the length, she estimated that it must run below half the Palace.

Her eyes searched desperately for anything and everything she could see, fully expecting to be pulled back into the hallway at any moment. Unending doors flanked either side of the room below; small square windows in each were barred like prison cells. Most of the farthest doors were dark, but Katniss could see at least ten that had lights on within them. One or two doors remained open.

One cell in particular she had a good viewpoint of from where she stood. And inside, crouching next to a candle, book in hand, sat a girl about her age. Long blonde hair. Tanned skin. Simple red cotton dress. But what caught her eye was the rope around her wrist. Fisherman's rope. A tradition to keep the wearer safe from harm, that emanated from District Four.

What was a District Four girl doing in this place?

Her eyes swept across to the next cell. She could just make out the leg of another girl, this one slightly paler skinned than the first. She had to step forward onto the grating to get a better look.

And found herself staring at a red head. A face that reminded her of a fox. Playing a game of chess with another girl.

Katniss noticed her own hands trembled about the same time that she noticed the District Seven craftsmanship within the handmade wooden chess pieces.

Two more steps forward. The clang of her feet on the grate.

A girl with short auburn hair. Another with bright blue eyes.

She began to count the cells. Tried to work out how many there were. But she didn't need to finish her tally. The girl that walked out of one of the last cells told her everything she needed to know.

A few weeks before her father returned to Twelve for the last time, before Katniss stood up on the stage in the square, even before the rumours had fully circulated about the fate of the women being sent to the Capitol, another tribute from Twelve had made the journey. Maysilee Donner, a merchant girl who was quite a few years above Katniss in school, was a nervous twenty two year old who always carried a wooden ball around with her to keep her calm. The rhythm of twirling it in her hand was said to be relaxing for her; a distraction from her problems. Katniss had only really taken notice of her the day she kindly gave Prim a lollypop after she had tripped and scraped her knee.

It was the same girl that stood below her right then. Twirling the same wooden ball in her hands.

She couldn't breathe. The knowledge of fifty foot of concrete hovering above her head was crushing her lungs and pressing down on her relentlessly. She had to get out of there.

Her wild run came to a violent halt a few feet in the hallway as she collided with her mentor. Her guards at least, were no longer waiting for her.

He looked at her with wintry blue eyes. After a lifetime of silence, Haymitch could read her as he always had. "Go on. Say it."

Only one thought formulated on her tongue.

"...They're _alive_?"

xXx

Katniss stormed past the guards to Peeta's study before they had a chance to react. Haymitch remained closely behind her, dispelling any suspicion of the intentions of her visit to the Prince's quarters before they charged in after her. Not that she cared. Let them charge. She could take on an army, with the fury she felt at that moment.

She briefly took in his form as he stood next to the window reading. Gold hair swept back in his usual pompadour style, black dress pants, navy blue cotton shirt that had the first two buttons undone. His shirt sleeves were once again rolled up to his elbows in his familiar fashion that made her think he was about to go and get his hands dirty. Well, his hands were dirty, just not in the way she had thought. She had seen that for herself moments ago.

Peeta had barely enough time to look up from the documents clutched in his hand before she descended upon him.

"Who the hell do you think you are?! Do you think it's funny toying with people?" With every sentence that spurted from her mouth, Katniss emphasised it with a shove directly at Peeta's chest, causing him to stumble once or twice as he tried to maintain eye contact with her. She could tell it irritated him by the way his jaw tightened, but she could not bring it in her to care at that moment. She was too busy seeing red.

"What – ?"

He looked past her, but it was only when she heard a second voice behind her that she realised Haymitch must have followed her in.

"Sweetheart's found your guest suite downstairs boy. Seems she's not to happy with the company you keep."

"Shut up Haymitch! This isn't some drunken joke. You can't just brush this off as nothing!" She turned her fury back to the man she stormed in to see. "They're alive and you all let me think they weren't. This whole time! Was this some kind of sick game to you? Because it wasn't to me! The guilt gave me nightmares. My own father thought he was sending me to my death!"

"Your father knew sweetheart."

Her braid nearly hit her in the face as she whipped round to face Haymitch. The revelation should have had her feeling relieved. Her father knew. He wasn't putting his life above others, and he didn't ever really have to make the agonising choice between these women and his own family. She could not therefore fathom why the only emotion she recognised in that moment was distain. Or why Haymitch's words brought tears to her eyes.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better I suppose? You've all been lying to me the whole time, but hey, it's OK, because your father has too. Wonderful news!"

It was then that she remembered Johanna's words to her in the training centre, now clearly a hint at what secrets lay around her.

_If you like my work, you should check out the lower levels of the Palace..._

So, Jo knew too. Which meant that Finnick certainly must. It made her stop to consider. How many others were in on the secret? How many others knew? When she stopped to think about it, this kind of a secret was too large to stop at just those she had already worked out. The girls needed to be fed. Waited on. Sheets changed, cells cleaned. Not to mention, the amount of laundry and cooking that needed to be done elsewhere. More than one set of guards must be on rotation outside. The numbers beginning to formulate made her head spin.

Everyone around her had their part in spinning this black web of lies. She was angry at them all. And mostly, she was angry at herself for allowing herself to be fooled so easily, and for letting them gain her trust.

Only one question formed on her lips. "Why? Why let people think they're dead?" She looked at Peeta, but he had remained strangely silent throughout the whole exchange, an oddly solemn look in his gaze. "Answer me dammit!" She shoved Peeta again, much harder than before, and he knocked a china vase down from a stand behind him as he struggled to right himself. It smashed into blue and white patterned shards around their feet.

"If you would just let me explain..."

She wasn't surprised when Haymitch cut in yet again. "Don't be a fool girl. You know the situation with Snow. Before you showed up, rumours were spreading that the Prince was not only unstable, but weak as well. They needed to think he was capable of that."

"You're just full of great plans aren't you Haymitch? Such a great mentor to us all! Tell me, you didn't think for one moment that I should know the truth? There were times I could have killed him!" She didn't fail to see the flinch Haymitch gave, or the pained look in Peeta's eyes as she pointed to the Prince.

Haymitch recovered first. "Of course I thought you should know. But it wouldn't have helped what you were trying to do. You're many things Sweetheart, but a liar ain't one of them. You needed the fear to spark your fire; you needed a reason to fight."

"Katniss..." Peeta had begun to move towards her then, to take control of the conversation.

But she had no interest now in what the blond had to say. She was done with them both. With a swift turn on her heels, her braid disappeared from the room.

xXx

The door to her bedroom suddenly didn't seem heavy enough as she thrust it open to slam it behind her in her rage. The deep clang of wood didn't resound around her as she was expecting; instead, she turned to find Peeta in the doorway. His arm had caught the door before it could slam shut. She tried to ignore the flex of his bicep as he gripped the wood, fought the image of those arms as they had hovered over her the night before, how they glided up her chest while she rocked above him...

Swallowing thickly, she allowed her anger to eclipse such thoughts, but not before her eyes fluttered downwards to take in how his muscular form filled out the deep blue shirt he wore. As he kept his blue eyes trained on her (blue eyes made impossibly bluer from the contrast with his shirt), he closed the door behind him. She thought she heard the lock click in place.

Well, if he was happy to lock himself in the room with her, he was definitely underestimating her anger.

She stepped back defiantly, holding his piercing gaze the whole time. She noticed how hard set his mouth was. How his whole body seemed tense.

"We aren't done yet. You don't get to just walk away Katniss."

"And you don't keep getting to say that!" She shoved him again, to both keep him at a distance, and to punish him with her anger. Her response had him momentarily confused.

"Say what?"

"My name! You don't get to keep saying my name like that!" Another shove.

"How am I saying you name exactly?"

"Like I mean something to you. Like this marriage hasn't been a sham the whole time." When her arms headed towards him again, he caught her wrists in midair and held them.

"Can you please stop doing that – "

She refused to let their close proximity put her off now. She was in her element. "Are we even married? Or was that a lie too?"

"Of course we are!"

"Yes, you me and how many others? Trying to build yourself a harem down there or something?"

"No – it isn't like – "

"That'll be nice won't it? Just you, me, and all your other ladies sitting around the fire on cold winter nights, retelling old fairy tales. _Ver_y cozy."

"They're not my wives!"

She had once learnt that silver had a melting point of nine hundred degrees. The heat of her scowl in that moment could melt steel with the furnace of emotion boiling within her. She was furious. The hurt she felt (that she _knew_ came from the discovery of his deceit, because what else could it be?) and here he was still trying to lie to her. "Oh, and how does that work? Out of sight, out of mind, is that it? As long as you say so, then that must be the case – "

"You're being ridiculous." She didn't appreciate his flippant criticism of her, and although her wrists were still in his grasp, she did her best to raise her hand to strike him, but he held her tighter. "Did you want me to kill them, is that it?! I had them annulled Katniss. When I sent them to the dungeons, I had Haymitch take care of it."

"Oh how wonderful for them! Is that what you plan to do to me too? Why don't I just head to the dungeons now and save you the trouble!?"

He let go of her in that moment, and ran a hand through his hair. She could see his anger rising again.

Good. Angry Peeta she wanted. Angry Peeta she could deal with.

"Urgh! You are infuriating! Only you could find out a truth like this, and still find some way to be angry."

"I'm not angry – "

"Then what are you?! Tell me Katniss...why does it matter to you what we are anyway?! Huh?" She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, knew what he was really asking of her, but too afraid to see the hurt in his eyes at that moment. Too afraid of the feelings being stirred within her by his temper. "You know, for such a talented storyteller, you really are terrible with words."

"Fine, you want to know why it matters? _You didn't tell me_! Dammit Peeta, I'm supposed to be your – " She cut herself off mid sentence, before she could do something completely stupid like answer his question.

"What Katniss? You're supposed to be what?" She couldn't answer him. She just couldn't.

"Thought so. You say I lied to you, but then what have you been doing to me all this time? You think I didn't know about your schemes with Haymitch? I knew what you were both doing , and yet somehow you still made me think you cared, when clearly you don't. You just don't have the guts to admit it was all an act - "

His words were cut off with the impact of his back against the wooden panel of the door as she pushed him into it. He stared at her in shock, her face inches away from his. "Don't you dare! Those women haunted my dreams Peeta. _Every day._ And dreams of Prim; she died in every way imaginable. By noose, by axe. I've witnessed my sister die a hundred different ways. But I kept faith that you deserved to be helped, kept wanting to help you. God knows why now!" It was unusual for her to talk about her nightmares. But with him, it seemed she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. If her words cut him like a knife, so be it."Oh, and of course Snow now stars in my dreams as well, striking you down and taking you away from me too. So don't you _dare_ pretend to understand what I feel." Her blood boiled. Her eyes began to brim with bitter tears. "You know what, forget this. Just forget it!"

She went to brush past him to get to the door behind him, but his hand firmly but gently encased her arm as he pulled her back to him, and swiftly turned them both so it was her back against the smooth grain. This time, his chest was nearly completely flush with hers.

She began to pound her fists on his torso, refusing to look up to him for fear her eyes would give her away.

"Let me go Peeta!"

But his hands grip hers tightly, holding them to him. The heat from his touch set her skin on fire. Slowly, her eyes travelled up to his face. His blond waves had begun to fall across his forehead. Although she could feel that he trembled as much as her, the look in his darkened eyes told her it was not quite rage causing them to tremble. Blue could be found in the hottest of flames. And what little blue she could now see in his eyes displayed an intense fire.

In a growl, he answered her.

"I can't!"

Their lips connected with a fury, filling each other's mouths with moans as well as tongues. Hands travelled everywhere; fisted in hair, pulled flesh to flesh. This time, it was not gentle. It was not sweet. It was aggressive. It was purging. It was fire.

It was exactly what she craved.

Katniss bit and tugged at his lips as he ran one of his hand's from her hair down to her thigh, keeping his other holding her mouth tightly to his. In one swift move, he had lifted her leg and held it up to his hip, and pushed her further into the wall with his lower body. Both squeezed their eyes tight and let out a long moan. The hand that was fisted in her hair gave a soft tug, causing her to release a high squeak at the delicious feeling. She tugged his hair back. He growled.

The whole thing was impulsive and fast and impossibly good.

She began to feel a spark between her legs where Peeta's hips ground against hers, and the feeling became so much that she threw her head back against the wall and released a broken high pitched howl as he nipped and caressed his way down her neck.

His laboured breaths tickled her lips as he broke apart to speak. "Tell me to stop."

"No. Don't stop." Her head shook as she replied. She knew she wasn't experienced in this, and was even a cause for ridicule with Jo. But this felt so natural, so unstoppable, so inevitable, that she knew she would not be the one to cease.

The look in her eyes must have been as feral as his; with an animalistic groan he pulled down the straps to her dress and began to tease one of her breasts through her lacy blue bra. She arched into him from the unexpected pleasure.

"Yes...oh god – "

Peeta swallowed her words. It would not have mattered – she was no longer in control of the words leaving her mouth. She could only clutch at him desperately, urging him on as he continued to kiss her.

Their frenzied exploration had not slowed. His feathered touch traced over the heated core below her lacy underwear before she registered his hand had moved. He stilled and watched her, waiting for her to stop him, slap him, anything.

Her hand urged him on.

Both pairs of wide eyes were frozen on each other, unblinking blue and silver. Slowly, yet too soon and too slow and too much and not enough, and with her leg still held by his other hand, she felt one of his fingers move her underwear aside to enter her. His eyes watched as pleasure passed over her expression.

"Oh my..."

"God...you're so..."

It was a foreign feeling to her, yet gave her a beautiful pleasure. She felt it withdraw, then re-enter and curl inside her.

"_Peeta_!"

Her legs nearly collapsed beneath her.

He moved his lips to her ear to speak as he continued the movement of his hand. His voice was soft and deep. "What were you going to say back there Katniss? You said you were supposed to be something..."

His thumb happened to brush over a spot that throbbed above her entrance, and she cried out in pleasure.

Peeta looked at her curiously. He rubbed the spot again. And again. And again. The movement had her calling his name.

"What were you going to say Katniss?" His movements became urgent. "_Tell me._"

Something was tightening faster and faster in her belly. She was trying so hard to focus on his words. Did not want to answer his question. Knew she inevitably would.

It was his pleading blue eyes that got her in the end. She could tell he needed to know what she meant. It mattered to him.

His breath panted at the same rate as hers as she climbed a crest to something she did not recognise. "You're supposed to be my..."

"Wife!...oh..oh.._Peeta_!" It left her in a cry to the heavens as she crested the intense wave of pleasure that hit her.

"God, Katniss..." He let her finish trembling. Watched her intently as she came down from her high. In one swift motion he had lifted her other leg to fasten them both behind his waist to carry her to the bed. She was certain her bones were too soft to carry her at that point.

Peeta's hands tangled in her braid to pull her closer to him in another deep kiss as her back made contact with the bed. Her fingers grew impatient to feel his flesh, and with one urgent tug she had removed his shirt over his head, breaking them momentarily apart in the process. The blue flame in his eyes had almost been eclipsed by the darkness of his wide pupils. He looked down at her with an impassioned hunger.

The look drove her to near insanity and impatience. She pulled him down to her lips again, and as his tongue plunged into her mouth, Katniss hooked her legs behind his waist and pulled him over her to rest between her legs. His belt prodded her stomach uncomfortably, so she moved her hand down to unfasten it. In doing so, she accidentally brushed the evidence of his arousal, causing his lips to pull away and a moan to escape them.

"_Shit._.."

His word of obscenity was shocking to her, but not so much as her own bodily reaction. The power over him thrilled her. She realised that this was what she needed to quench her anger in that moment. She needed the control over him, like he had her. He would know not to keep her in the dark again. She wanted him begging for forgiveness. Completely at her mercy.

So she applied what she could remember from Jo. She began to rub him through his trousers, and watched as his mouth fell open and his breathing sped up. Long moans began to spill from his throat in quick succession. A smile graced her lips.

But she was growing impatient. Her hands fumbled hastily with his trouser fastenings, her own pleasurable tremors not helping her hands at all. Finally, finally, she had the clasp undone. The offending garment was haphazardly pushed down partway to his thighs, just enough for her to make more contact with him over his boxers.

She still wanted more. Had to have more.

Her leg hooked over him again, and she pushed him so he was underneath her. And once again, they were back where they had left off the night before, her on top of him, writhing together. Perhaps if she had known then what she does now, they would have reached this point already. But it did not matter. She knew this would have happened anyway.

Peeta sat up to reach her mouth, her neck, anywhere he could touch. When his lips latched onto her nipple through her lace bra, she arched her back in pleasure. Her hands held his mouth in place as he continued, her breathy moans eliciting guttural moans of his own.

But she wanted the response he got from her. She wanted her name to fall from his tongue in exquisite agony. So she pushed him back, and then began rocking her hips against his at an unrestrained pace, focusing on his eyes the whole time.

"Oh God..." He looked at her in disbelief, watching their lower bodies, the movement of her breasts. She felt his hands grab her hips then, his fingers flexed powerfully into her flesh. He began to guide her to rock faster, push harder into him. Katniss could feel the heat building again.

"Oh _fuck_... Katniss... I'm gonna..." but his sentence was cut off by silence as he stilled her hips above him, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. A few small thrusts against her, and then his head fell back in exhaustion.

They lay there, sweaty and semi clothed and silent. Suddenly, the moment felt awkward. The heat of their argument had passed, leaving neither one of them sure of where to go from there. She kept her head tucked into his neck while her heart rate slowed, where she could think.

What did this make them? What were they to each other now? In a heat of passion, she had practically confessed to him something she was not even sure she felt. What was worse, she dreaded his possible response to it. She wasn't ready for the conversation she knew was inevitable. So she kept still, relishing the silence between them, and the hold he still had on her; dreading the moment they would have to let go.

The bubble could not last. She knew that.

"Katniss...?" His voice was timid, hesitant, like a shy child. It made her slowly begin to sit up and brace herself to look at his face.

A thunderous knock broke them apart.

The faint pink blush on his cheeks would have almost made her smile, if she didn't know for certain that she was wearing a blush to match it.

"Er, can you get that? I just need to..."

_Knock._

Katniss simply nodded, and began to pull her dress back up as Peeta walked into the bathroom, unable to quite look him in the eyes.

The door vibrated in her hands from a third knock before she had the chance to turn the key in the lock.

Haymitch stood on the other side of the door. The look on his face held back whatever comment she was preparing to make to him.

"The boy's needed. He's here I take it?" Before she could answer, Peeta's voice came from behind her.

"What's happened?"

"Snow's army have been seen just outside the Capitol. They're grouping for an attack."


	9. The end of the tale

**Sorry for the delay in getting this next chapter out; wish I didn't have to work for a living. But alas.**

**Thanks to all the wonderful reviews. You are all fabulous and I really am overwhelmed by the responses I get. Find me on tumblr, and please keep reviews coming, they brighten my day!**

**This chapter is dedicated to maddmaddworld, as a wedding present (and something to read on the flight to her honeymoon, if she can last that long!)**

**Big thanks again to my beta eatsnightlockforbreakfast, who is amazing and I definitely would not have this chapter done without her support. Also, to sponsormusings for having a read and letting me know it all made sense to her!**

**Enjoy!**

**I don't own the Hunger Games or its characters.**

Peeta had been locked in military meetings for over eighteen hours with no respite. His neck muscles ached from leaning over countless battle plans and documents, and his body now shook from an overdose of caffeine in his blood instead of poison.

When he finally returned to Katniss, he found her sitting on the bed in silence, staring out of the window. They ate in silence; him not wanting to address the elephant in the room, and her not wanting to stress him out before he had the chance to at least eat. She was shocked that he had barely stopped since she last saw him. Once he ate every plate she placed in front of him, she ran him a bath and insisted he soak his aching joints in it, despite his protestations that he was fine. He noticed she avoided any salts with the scent of roses when she prepared his water.

The bath had helped.

And now here they were. Ready to start to talk, but neither sure of how to begin. Katniss took care of him in this too, and began to talk first.

"You planned to kill them at first, right?"

"Yeah, I did." He swallowed. She seemed confused.

"So...what changed?"

xXx

_He remembered everything about the day. The memories shone in his memory in their intensity. He always remembered them as a man would remember actors on a stage; like it was someone else he watched from a distance running Panem, that locked up those women. But he knew better._

_On the day his first wife would walk the halls to her death, Peeta remembered feeling ferocity to his savagery. Blood ran through his fingers from where his nails dug into his palms in his tightly closed fists as he ordered Haymitch to send the Capitol girl to the block. He did not even know her name, the girl he was about to kill. It did not matter to him. _

_But just as he had given Haymitch the order, echoes of words from time nearly forgotten, too painful to evoke, found themselves raging through his head. A conversation with his father not long before he was cruelly taken. It had been at a time of war's beginnings in Panem. Peeta had asked why his father, who to him was righteous and good and just in all things, seemed so guilt ridden to be fighting in battle. He told his father what a hero he was to him. Why do you seem ashamed? he had asked. Doesn't everyone say that battle is glorious?_

_His father had told him to come closer, and told him there was much more a person could lose in battle than they could gain. Peeta had responded instantly; he knew the risk of losing one's life was great. But his history teacher had thought it a great honour to die in battle. You could lose your life of course. But you fight for your convictions. He was surprised to find his father disagreed._

"_It takes far more than your life my son. To send people into battle... to murder innocent people...why, it takes everything you are."_

_Peeta had been fifteen when Snow had taken over District 13, and led its people into rebellion. In battle, his father had procured the safety of Panem once again, but not before much blood had been shed on both sides. District Thirteen retreated, banished from the unity of Panem forever. But the King was never the same man Peeta had known before it all. He came back to him, but he never returned._

"_WAIT!" _

_Haymitch had almost made it to the end of the hallway when Peeta had shouted for him. Haymitch simply turned and stared at the young man in front of him looking no more than a lost boy. _

"_Wait." He ran his hand violently through his hair in frustration. He felt the trembling of his hands through his skull. _

_Could he do what he was about to do? Change his mind? Spare the girl's life?_

_His wife._

_The words filled him with disdain._

_He couldn't. They deserved this. They deserved to die._

_He sought her out though. She did not seek him. She did not ask for this._

_No. It didn't matter. She would kill him if he didn't kill her first. The next time they were together._

_Together. He would make sure that would not happen again._

_But she doesn't need to die to ensure that._

_His advisor had stood patiently in front of him, waiting for him to continue._

"_Don't execute her." The words were bitter on his tongue as they left his mouth. "Lock her away in the dungeon. Throw away the key for all I care. Just keep her out of my sight."_

xXx

"Keeping them locked up isn't being true to your father's words either you know."

"I know that. If it wasn't for Haymitch insisting they stay, I would have sent them home weeks ago." He did not mention that she had been the one to make him want to release them.

"Was it your idea to let the families think they were dead?"

"Not exactly. Haymitch had kept it a secret from everyone at first, made everyone believe they were being executed. I found out, was angry at him at first for keeping it from me, for plotting things behind my back. But he explained why it had to be done. So I let the charade continue." Katniss nodded at his words.

"But it was my idea to send the coffins."

Her eyes focused on his again. They held pain, disappointment, anger. They mirrored the feelings he aimed at himself.

"I know. It was a despicable thing to do. In my head, they were as guilty as the daughters, the sisters, the cousins they had sent me. I wanted them all to be punished with pain."

"Is it true that my dad knows?" Her eyes were fixed on the lush carpet at her feet. He could see her tense as she prepared for his answer.

"Kind of, yeah. He, uh...didn't know about the plan the first time he brought me...you know." He glanced at Katniss then, and despite the unease he felt about his past actions, he knew he had to reveal her father's part in it. Make sure she held no hard feelings towards her father, even if it meant she despised him for it instead. "But then he found out I planned to kill them, and he refused to continue. Said he would rather go to the block himself before having the blood of any of those women on his hands. Haymitch had to tell him the truth. John still wasn't happy about it; he didn't want to lie to the families, and he didn't trust that they wouldn't be killed later anyway when he wasn't there to try to protest."

"We saw the coffins that came back from the Capitol. The way he acted when he came home, he seemed to believe they were still being killed as much of the rest of us did."

"If he did, it wasn't my intent, and I'm sorry for it." Katniss slowly nodded at him to continue. "Anyway, he saw it the way I do now. He told me that locking them away was just as bad as killing them, that I was taking away their lives, and making their families suffer as if they had died. Of course, I rejoiced at that. My hate was so deep and all consuming, I wanted them to suffer in every way imaginable. And yet I was angry at your father that he was judging me for it. I mean, how could he not see I was doing every man in Panem a favour by locking these women away?"

"But he agreed?"

"No, he still refused." Peeta's mouth curled up slightly at the memory. He couldn't help but think her father's stubbornness that day was exactly like his daughter's, and the thought almost made him smile. Almost.

"I was so mad, and felt so _just _in my cause...in a way I can't understand now. Well, I..." he swallowed the feelings of guilt and self loathing down to finish his sentence, "I threatened him with his life if he didn't."

"And that made him agree to do it then?"

"Not exactly." Peeta knew he wore guilt on his face she could see immediately. His skin crawled with his next words. "I...I threatened the lives of his family too."

He knew then. Knew that this would be the moment she would turn from him. Would see him for the beast he was. He wouldn't look at her, the selfish coward that he was. He wanted to savour the looks she gave him the night before in his memory, when they were alone; not this.

"So is that the guilt you've been carrying around then?" He had to look up at her at her question. Her eyes held only confusion.

"Yes – what? No! It wasn't just that..." How could she look at him that way? Why was her silver eyes warm with compassion, instead of cold with contempt. "I nearly killed them Katniss! That's not something I can easily accept or forgive of myself."

"But you didn't..."

"Oh yes, I was their knight in shining armour in the end wasn't I? Because locking them up for life, making their families suffer, that is so much better isn't it?"

The deafening silence filled the room as each person took in what had been said. It was only the question he had been dreading that broke it.

"What happened to Clove and Glimmer? I didn't see them with the others I don't think." He watched her fingertips brush the end of her braid as she waited for his answer.

"Clove was sent back to District Thirteen; we heard she had been shot by Snow for her failure." Katniss' eyes widened at his words.

"And Glimmer?"

The pause in the air stretched for decades between them. He did not want to answer her, wanted to ignore the elephant in the room. He could never be ready to face his role in Glimmer's fate. But they had sworn nothing but the truth from one another, and he would keep that vow.

"Haymitch had her...hanged...for treason. I signed the papers." He had practically spat the words in self loathing. His hands weaved through his hair violently as he stood, crossing to stand in front of the fire in frustration.

But it wasn't long before he felt the heat of her body standing behind him. Her anger flowed from her in waves; if her heavy breathing had not been an obvious sign to him now, her heated gaze on his back would have told him enough of her presence. It warmed him more intensely than the fireplace ever could. In that moment, she reminded him of the day he saw her walking down the aisle towards him; golden flames licking at her figure, like a girl on fire.

She had grabbed his arm then with a strength he did not know she could possess, and whipped him around to face her. In her fury, she was as radiant as the Sun.

"She committed treason Peeta! She was plotting to kill you! Not to mention the poison she had laced into your food. You did what you had to do!" Somehow, they found themselves inches away from each other then, her breath ghosting over his face. Her voice dropped dangerously low. "So don't you _dare _say you can't forgive yourself for that."

He had begun to speak, to dispute everything she had said, because how can he be seen as anything but a monster and a villain and how could she not despise him? But her lips cut him off, silencing his words. They were soft yet stubborn, and refused to let him speak.

Soon, he forgot what they had even been talking about.

xXx

A kiss that had began soft and innocent soon turned heated and furious between them. His hands were weaved in her hair, hers were wound tightly behind his neck. It was only the sound of gunfire in the distance drifting through the open window that had them breaking apart.

Despite the blush that crept up her neck and face, Katniss did not break her gaze from the window as she moved to sit on the bed. Her legs lifted up to tuck underneath her arms, and she rested her chin on her knees as she continued to stare into the night, lost in her thoughts.

"Must you fight?"

"You know I must."

Steely resolve held fast on her face as she spoke her next words. "Then I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not!"

"I can fight you know. I've been training with Johanna, so don't think – "

"You have people that need you Katniss; if you were killed..."

"My sister has my father – "

He cut her off quickly. "It's not the same. She still needs _you. _Nobody needs me."

"You're needed by so many Peeta! Why can't you see – " Her words pained him in their deceit. It had never been the case for him.

"You mean my people?" He scoffed then. "They need a leader. If I die, there'll be another to replace me. Rye would probably step up. Panem would go on. They need their leader. They don't need _me._ Not like your family needs you. Nobody needs me like that."

"I do. I need you."

Hope began to surface in his chest like an old acquaintance long forgotten, presumed dead. Why would she need him?

But no matter how much he begged her to tell him with his eyes, tried to get her to see he needed her to tell him what he meant to her, her lips stayed shut. So he asked her to tell him in the way she had conveyed all her thoughts and feelings before.

"The girl and boy in the story. How does it end for them?"

Katniss motioned for him to sit closer to her on the bed. He listened intently as she resumed the story; how they were the last one's left still alive, and by some miracle had discovered the lamp while sheltering in their cavern. She told him of how the girl and boy raced back to the Emir as quickly as they could, informing him of how they had discovered the treasure, expecting to share the prize money. And then the Emir made it clear only one of them could survive, the boy and girl fought each other furiously.

"To be the one to survive?" It saddened him that the end of her beautiful story would come to this.

"No...to be the one to die." He looked at her then, confused and conflicted.

"They were fighting to die? But...why?"

She gave him a look that seemed to convey both sorrow and understanding all at once. "Because they loved each other so much, they couldn't bear to be the one to be left standing. He protected her the whole way, and she knew that if she did not come up with something to save him, she would be stuck in that cavern forever, trying to think of a way out."

"So what happened?"

"She thought of a way out." He tried to read the wicked grin that graced her face; The twinkle in her eyes told him of her passion for her storytelling, and evoked future images of her perched on a bed much as he saw her now, settled beside a child with raven hair like hers, and piercing blue eyes.

It made him ache to think of how wonderful a mother she would be one day.

Katniss continued the story; told of how the girl had left the lamp in the cavern, and instead had handed over a bag full of rocks. She had asked for the boy's trust, before she threatened the Emir that unless he let them both live, she would kill them both and he would never know how to find the cavern.

"So the Emir had no choice. He let them both live. Once they were safe abroad and away from harm, they sent directions to the cavern back to the Emir."

"And what about them?"

"They lived. They married. Protected each other. Eventually protected their children."

"So in the end...she risked her life to save him?"

"Yes. Love makes you do powerful things sometimes." He furrowed his brow in thought.

"How does our story end?" He knew he sounded weak asking her; there was vulnerability in his words. But he trusted he could show that side of himself to this woman. He had shown her so many things.

"I...I don't know."

And there it was. Her response, or her lack thereof, told him everything. She did not feel as he felt. How could she anyway? He could not blame her. And if he could keep her, he could still protect her this one last time.

"Tomorrow, I want you to go home. Be with your family. That will be how it ends. I won't hold you here anymore."

Katniss seemed offended by the idea.

"Why are you sending me away?" He remained silent. "Are you trying to protect me?"

"Of course I am."

"But why?"

"You tried to protect me didn't you?"

"Well I won't go." She crossed her arms, readying for a battle of words between them. Her fire could launch ships with its power, and he needed to be careful she did not change his conviction with this.

"Katniss, please. Will you follow what is being requested of you for once? I am asking you to go. Please don't make me force you to." He hoped she understood; he wanted her to choose to let him protect her. But he would not let her stay if she really tried to. "I don't want to do that."

A soft sigh escaped her lips. She knew it was a battle she would not win. "Will you at least stay here with me? For tonight?"

Peeta could not refuse her. He knew he would always give Katniss Everdeen anything she needed. He had been doing so ever since they were children. So he climbed in beside her, and lay on his side looking into her warm grey eyes, their slow breaths the only sounds filling the room. Sleep came to claim her long before it did him, and he was grateful for it. If he was to die in battle tomorrow, he wanted to spend every possible moment he had left with his raven haired beauty. But he could not fight his heavy lids from closing.

Just as his mind drifted to the edge of dreams, he felt a small hand entwine with his.

xXx

Peeta beat the Sun that morning. He was dressed and ready to leave long before the first warm glow of the Sun kissed Katniss' olive toned skin.

He wanted to look at her one last time, before he left her forever, so he stood in silence and took in her still sleeping form.

She wasn't his. Not really. He had selfishly kept her there, and although they were joined by law, he knew she could not possibly feel towards him what a wife should feel towards her husband. He could not blame her for that. He would do right by her. He would let her go. He knew she could do better than a broken shell of a man; she had shown him such patience and compassion that he knew she deserved better than him.

But he would allow himself this last indulgence of her. His eyes gorged themselves on the curve of her hip under the thin silk sheet, allowed himself to remember how her hips felt under the caress of his fingers. As he moved upwards, he watched her chest softly rise and fall in steady breaths that told him of her deep slumber.

He had learnt the patterns of her sleep in the time they had spent sharing a bed. He knew that when her eyelids twitched it usually meant she was moments away from kicking her legs out. When she sighed deeply, it usually was followed by a sharp tug on the covers. When her fingers began to stretch, he knew it to be a sign that she would stir to life shortly afterwards.

Peeta allowed his eyes to hover on her neck, imagining her strong pulse thumping a steady tattoo under her skin. It led him to the cupid bow of her lips, the petit curve of her nose, with the dusting of freckles that looked to him like the plough constellation he could see in a summer's sky. Her dark lashes lay to rest on her cheek, hiding the molten grey eyes he had burned into his soul. For now, his memory of those irises would have to suffice. They would be a steady companion to take into battle with him.

With one final sweep of her, he silently bid her goodbye, and closed the wooden door behind him one final time.

xXx

Later, while he readied his men and ran checks on his armour one last time, he could not help but to enquire after her, asking Haymitch if she left as he ordered.

"She's in a carriage headed for the train station as we speak."

Peeta nodded with conviction. He knew she was safe. He knew he had protected her. Now he could head into battle with the knowledge of that to keep him company.

Still, a small part of him felt the loss of her like a limb.

And an even smaller part wondered why, out of all the stubbornness she had shown him before, she had to listen to him now.


End file.
